Vagabonds Part One: Wasteland
by Sewer Slider
Summary: The first story in a five part series. Alternate Universe. When the Plutarkians can't buy Mars they invade it instead. How's a mouse to be a hero when Stoker won't let them fight? COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

Authors Note: This is the first part of a five-part series and is set on an alternate version of Mars, so whereas some things are the same, many other things will be different. Let me know what you think!

In the series, Mars was essentially bought by the Plutarkians and the Cave Mouse population was sold out by the Government, meaning the Plutarkians had no need to use force until their plans became obvious and worrying to the general population. But what if the Martian government hadn't been corrupt? Would the Plutarkians have still attempted to take Mars as their own?

Probably...

&&&&&&&&

Alstare didn't know whether to be amused or outraged.

Dominic T. Stilton had requested a meeting with him and although his mistrust of the Plutarkian racer ran deep, he had to behave diplomatically. It was all part and parcel of being involved in politics. Besides, Stilton had alluded to some kind of business opportunity in several major Martian cities and so help him, he was curious as to what it might be. Mars was not known as a place where businesses flourished, particularly the types that generated money enough for the Plutarkian coffers.

Stilton had arrived to the meeting and Alstare, having some prior experience with Pluarkians, had prepared by receiving the fish in a well-ventilated cave. Even so, the smell was hard to ignore.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Stilton had not arrived alone, two burly bodyguards with him, but Alstare wasn't worried. He could take out three Plutarkians without breaking a sweat and there were enough bodyguards of his own outside the room. "There are several plots of land which the Plutarkian Government is interested in. They are, shall we say, rather large and already occupied. We understand the difficulty this acquisition could cause for your Government..."

"To buy the amount you're suggesting, it would have to go to a vote of the Martian council," said Alstare bluntly. "I don't see how I can help you."

"You are a member of the Council and would have a vote in this matter," replied Stilton coldly. "All we ask is that you use your vote wisely."

Alstare was getting tired of the conversation, tired of the bad smell, tired of all the nonsense. "I really don't see how the Plutarkians having this land would help our planet in any way. There are rumours..."

"Unfounded!" said Stilton, trying for a smile and managing a grimace instead. "But, ah, I can see how this vexes you. Maybe if I were to offer you something for your troubles...?"

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, producing a case from beneath his voluminous robes and opening it. Alstare widened his eyes. The case was filled with Gold Gills, the most highly valuable currency in the entire galaxy.

_Enough to buy anything at all, look after my family for the rest of their lives, holidays, new bikes, everything I could dream of..._

"So, we can count on your support during the voting process?"

Alstare tore his gaze from the Gold Gills and back to the smirking Stilton. All that money for one small vote and it wasn't as if his would even make a difference.

Unless they had got to the rest of the council too...

"Forget it!" he snarled, turning away from the Plutarkians in disgust and storming to the far end of the cave. "I don't take bribes and you'll never find a Martian who will! Keep you Gold Gills and we'll keep Mars."

Stilton lost all pretence of niceness. "Very well Alstare. But you're the one being a fool here. The council _shall_ vote our way tomorrow – and we shall have the land. You have missed out on all of this - and you shall still lose."

"Get out!"

After the Plutarkians left, Alstare sat at his desk, still fuming. It was the first time he had ever dealt with anything on this scale, having been in office less than a month. He shouldn't even be there, if only his predecessor hadn't had that bike accident...

Well, wish in one hand and shit in the other, see which one filled up first.

_The council shall vote our way tomorrow..._

How was Stilton so sure? Unless – could there actually be some mice who would take the money? Alstare was new to politics, but he wasn't naïve. He had been tempted to take the money himself, yet he didn't really need it. If there were those who needed cash badly or were less moral than him, then yes, maybe the vote would go the Plutarkians way.

_Over my dead body._

He thought over the council. Several of them he knew well – the mouse population wasn't very large and the same types tended to be attracted to politics – some of them he knew a little, others he barely knew. Maybe there was some way he could sway their loyalties away from the cash...

Hitting some buttons on the vid-link, he began to make some calls.

"Hi! Look, about the vote tomorrow..."

"Remember when we..."

"Behind you all the way last week when you wanted..."

"Tried to bribe me, can you imagine? I know none of us would ever accept, but..."

By the time Alstare had finished, he was grimly pleased, deciding it was unlikely the Plutarkians would be able to buy the land they wanted.

&&&&&

"_Unthinkable!"_

Grand High Poo-bah Lord Camembert roared over the vid-screen at the cowering Stilton. "You mean to tell me that after all those bribes – the Martian council voted NO? That we may not just buy the land we need?"

"We did not expect to find an honest politician sir. I – I shall try again Lord Camembert.."

"At what cost this time?" Camembert glared into the screen and Stilton began to wish he had asked one of his subordinates to make the call – that upstart Limburger perhaps. Of course, if he had assigned it to another, they would be trying to undermine him to the High Council. Plutark ran on politics.

"No more bribes. No more chances." Camembert seemed to come to a decision. "The Martians could have had their money but if they want to play this the hard way, then so will we. Send in an invasion force."

"Yes Chairman," said Stilton, suddenly beginning to feel better. In charge of an invasion force was high power indeed. "What are your orders?"

"Start with the area around Brimstone and fan out from there," replied Camembert. "That's where the population is at it's heaviest. Oh, and Stilton? Ensure that the army presence throughout Mars is eliminated. I want no unnecessary delays with this mission."

"I assure you, there will be none Lord Camembert."

Stilton grinned as the Vid-screen went blank. He _would_ have Mars taken for Plutark – and the Martians would have no way of fighting back.

Mars was finished.


	2. Invasion

Vinnie had been having a pretty good day, right up until Brimstone exploded.

Like most mice, he had received his bike at thirteen in order to take lessons and bond with the machine before being assessed to ride. And like most mice, he frequently took off to practice solo whenever the chance arose. In the two years he'd had the bike, he had become an adept rider and it had been arranged for him to be assessed in a few short days. He had high hopes of being cleared to ride and then, no more stupid lessons and walking.

And his bike – goodness knew how his mother Stanchion had done it, but she'd found him the sweetest ride he'd ever seen. He suspected his Aunt Mago had more to do with it than she let on, but Stanchion refused to confirm or deny it. It even had a custom paint job that had all the other kids he knew weeping in envy. A big racing bike in bright red, it had made his whole _life_. Stanchion could be a total ditz and a bad-tempered cow at times, but damn, she knew him well.

And as soon as he was able to ride all the time, he was bound to get a girl!

But one little detail had been worrying him, namely the words of his bike tutor the day before. Vinnie replayed the conversation, a slight frown coming across his face.

"Son, you're good – but leave the flashy stuff out until you're ready, huh? They're not looking for you to be a motocross champ just yet, they're more concerned about you piling yourself into a volcano. So play it cool, okay?"

When he told Stanchion, she had laughed it off. "Vinnie, if you were meant to ride like Grandma, I would have got you a scooter. You'll do just fine, he's just trying to worry you."

But he _was_ worried, not that he would have admitted it to anyone, which was why he rode his bike out that morning to put in some hours at Red Rim Pass. Usually he could count on some other people being there, kids of around his own age either practicing or showing off if they already had been assessed and cleared. Vinnie mostly hung around with Throttle, who had already been assessed a year previously and occasionally Modo, who lived pretty far away but made the trip for some time away from what sounded like a close knit, but large and rambunctious family.

Neither was there that day though, which didn't much worry Vinnie. It gave him time to practice slowing down without them asking why he was suddenly scared of the accelerator. He certainly didn't want to admit to being scared of failing.

But – damn, he _hated_ going slow! And his bike understood, practically flying forward at the first sign of going faster. He would start off at one end of Red Rim Pass at a leisurely pace and by the time he was at the other end, he was going fast enough to beat the devil.

Still, as the day wore on he thought he was getting it. Not slow enough that he looked afraid or a wuss, but not so fast that he was a red and white blur either. And once he had been assessed, he could let loose with the accelerator again...

A shadow fell over Red Rim Pass.

Vinnie drew his bike to a stop, opening his visor to look into the sky. High above him, a ship was passing closer to the ground than most did, going slowly. For a moment, he thought it was searching out a place for an emergency landing...

And then there was a high whine and the ground at the far end of Red Rim Pass erupted – and continued erupting, moving toward him.

Kicking the bike into gear, Vinnie took off, realising there were some things to be said for speeding. Right now, it was about the only thing that would save his life.

&&&&&&&&&

Throttle wasn't happy.

His mother had 'thoughtfully' agreed to look after her friends daughter while the friend went to visit family. She had then informed Throttle that he had better keep the kid entertained, or else. Leaving him stuck being nice to a truculent twelve year old girl who was no happier about the situation than he was.

Chopper was okay for a kid, he supposed – but why he had to be babysitting her he didn't know. She was old enough to look after herself, would get her bike pretty soon and she was being treated like a baby. But then, so was he. It was all his mother could do to refrain herself from saying "playdate".

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked for what felt like the hundreth time.

"Go out on your bike," she replied. Just like the other times.

Throttle was losing patience. "No. I told you, I'm not cleared for passengers under fifteen." _Besides, if I went anywhere with you on the pillion, I'd never live my 'girlfriend' down._

"Then there's nothing _to_ do," she said sulkily.

_Tell me about it_ he thought with a sigh. "Watch some TV? Listen to some music? Shoot some hoops?"

"Uck." Chopper wrinkled her nose and threw a pigtail over her shoulder. "I'm not a baby y'know. You can go do something. I can entertain myself."

"I wish it was that simple," muttered Throttle. If he did that, his mom would be on his case in an instant, reproaching him for not paying enough attention to 'the poor girl'. Like it was his responsibility or something.

Chopper gave him a sideways glance and her mouth quirked into something like an understanding smile. "Ah, I see. Well, I guess we could shoot some hoops then. Gotta be better than staring at the wall."

Grateful for this unexpected mercy, Throttle grabbed his basketball from his room and they left the cave. The 'basket' he preferred was actually an indentation in the structure of the cave, his mother thinking leeching too much from the culture of their neighbouring planet being a bad thing when the Earth didn't even know Mars was inhabited. But she was kinda old-fashioned about those things.

"Don't go too far!" his mother called after them. "I'm making a meal!"

"We won't mom," replied Throttle, fighting down the familiar irritation. _Jeez mom, can't you lighten up just once? _

The pair went outside, taking it in turns to throw the ball at the 'hoop' without any real enthusiasm. On the rare occasions that one of them did manage to sink it, Throttle climbed up nimbly to retrieve it and the whole thing would begin again.

He was about to suggest something else – going back to staring at the wall perhaps – when the sky suddenly seemed to darken. Throttle and Chopper looked up to the sky, seeing a low flying craft above them, big enough so it covered a huge part of their neighbourhood.

"Why is it just hovering there?" asked Chopper in confusion.

Throttle didn't know – but he had a bad feeling suddenly. A very bad feeling.

"_Mom! _Come look at this a moment!"

His mother emerged from the cave, wiping her hands on a towel with an annoyed look on her face. She seemed about to say something, then glanced up at the craft above them.

"Throttle dear," she said in a tightly controlled voice."Why don't you take Chopper for a ride on your bike?"

It was such an un-momlike thing to say that Throttle forgot all about the strangeness of the craft. "But you said - "

"_Now_ Throttle. I'll get mine too. Let's go."

Chopper whooped happily and ran over to Throttle's bike, an understated classic. Throttle followed, suddenly more worried about anything he had ever been before. If his stoic, respectable mother was that desperate to get them away, then something serious must be going on. Belatedly, he realised there wasn't even a spare helmet with his bike and Chopper would have to go without

Throttle gunned the bike, shoving on his helmet in a hurry as his mother vanished out of sight to grab her own bike. It looked like a Plutarkian symbol, but that couldn't be right – if there was any threat, then why from them?

Although he had heard rumours...

A moment later, the ship began blowing the ground beneath it into smoking rubble.

&&&&&&&&

Modo swiped his forehead with the back of his hand and continued at his task. Farming on Mars was a thankless task at times, the often extreme weather conditions, but the survival of any race depended on food supply and as his momma always said, "Mice can live without a lot of things, but food isn't one of them!"

It wasn't hard work that he minded – he wouldn't have a choice anyway – but occasionally he felt as if he was missing out on the things that his friends did. Mostly he sought out Vinnie and Throttle when he managed to ride into Brimstone and both had almost choked when he mentioned what time he rose at or some of the chores he had.

On the other hand, he had miles to ride his beloved bike in, even before he had been successfully assessed for his bike. And his family all lived together in the farmhouse – his parents, his sister and her two children. He enjoyed being a part of that. Neither of his friends had any siblings and he felt vague pity for them, as if they were missing out. Not that he always got on perfectly with his own family – but he couldn't be without them.

Looking across the field, he noticed his father approach and raised a hand in greeting. Modo's father was a giant of a mouse, but Modo dwarfed even him and years of hard work had given them both enhanced physiques. To see them stood together would make even the most determined, stupid or insane assailant think twice about an attack.

"Everything okay daddy?" asked Modo, noticing the troubled frown on his fathers face.

His father jerked a thumb in a northerly direction. "They're letting the damn critters run wild again."

Modo rolled his eyes. The neighbouring farm was owned by rats, who didn't take nearly as much care of their own farm as the mice did of theirs. More than once, the animals the rats kept had escaped onto their land and done damage.

"Got no respect for others, that's the trouble," continued his father. "Probably sell the place in a heartbeat..."

It was an old refrain and Modo let it wash over him, interjecting a sound of agreement at the right moments, his mind wandering. Seeing a speck in the distance, he fixed his gaze on it, wondering what it was. Cargo ship heading for Brimstone most likely – it was flying pretty low. As his father continued, the ship came into view, an enourmous and unfamiliar looking craft. It came closer and Modo frowned, realising there were other ships behind it, heading past them.

His father finally realised there was something going on and looked up at the sky, examining the crafts as they passed. "Damn," he said in a low voice. "It's a whole fleet!"

"Huh?"

His father looked at the departing ships, then back at Modo with serious eyes. "Son, I want you to go back to the house, get your momma and sister and the twins away from here. Go toward Utopia, _not_ Brimstone. You hear me?"

"Yes, but..."

"Dammit, do as I say!"

"I don't get it – what - "

"Low as they are, they're heading for Brimstone – and we're too close. You need to get them away!"

"What about you?"

"Someone's gotta stay here – we could lose everything with one stray shot. I'm not losing our home to some alien invader!"

"But you can't..."

"Modo! You want your momma and sister getting hurt? You go get them away from here and don't worry none about me! _Move!_"

Modo nodded, not happy at all with the situation, and ran back toward the house to get his family out of harms way.

&&&&&&

_BLAM!_

_BLAM!_

_BLAM!_

Carbine reloaded her weapon as she examined the target she had assembled a couple of miles away from the army base. Not bad, not bad at all. She had hit with every shot, almost all of them in or around the bullseye. One had gone wide, barely hitting the target at all and she frowned. Not good enough. It wouldn't be long until she was old enough to enlist as a soldier, instead of being an army brat living at the base because of who her parents were and she was damned if she was going to be just an avarage soldier. She wanted to be the _best_.

And the best didn't shoot wide of the mark.

Narrowing her eyes, she raised her gun, aiming at the target...

_BLAM!_

_BLAM!_

But she hadn't fired.

Whipping her head around, she realised several things at once. That the shots were coming from the army base – not in itself unusual. But this wasn't the sound of soldiers practising. The artillery fire was too heavy and too loud. There was something bad going down.

And then she saw the ships that were arriving, parachuting Plutarkians emerging with guns firing, more of them seeming to stream in through the base. More Plutarkians than there were Martians. And the army had been taken by surprise.

_But... there was no indication of anything like this! How could they mount an attack on this scale without us knowing anything about it?_

That was something to consider later on. For now, the base she called home was under attack...

_And my parents, my friends are in there!_

She wasn't a soldier. She should stay out of the way.

But doing nothing was not in Carbine's nature.

Whistling for her bike, she leapt in the saddle and rode hell for leather back to the base, gun in hand, ready to whip tail – or die trying.

&&&&&&

Vinnie roared out of Red Rim Pass mere seconds before the flames erupted behind him, turning the relatively verdant Pass into so much charred mess. Banking his bike, he entered a tight turn and headed toward Brimstone, intent on warning the mice there what was going on.

And rde directly into a nightmare.

The mice in Brimstone were already well aware of what was happening. The city was under attack.

From the skies, Plutarkian ships rained fire down on the city. Troopers were beginning to pour in, blasting at any mice in their path. Where ever he looked, there was something burning, mice screaming and running, bikes roaring away from the destruction.

And, because they were mice and it was in their nature, there were a number fighting back, returning fire at the invaders, attempting to get the majority to safety. But they were too few and the Plutarkians had taken them by surprise. Before Vinnie's eyes, several were cut down as if they were mere nuisances.

_I have to go find mom!_

He doubted somehow that Stanchion was sat at home waiting for word from him – but he had to look for her, make sure she was safe. Hitting the accelerator, he went against the fleeing masses in an attempt to get back home...

And groaned in dismay as he realised it wight just be an impossible task. Debris littered the ground, the mob of running mice was thick and enemy fire rained down around him.

_But – I can't just leave her..._

A laser whistled perilously close to his ear and Vinnie turned his head, seeing a kid who by rights was way too young to be attempting to ride a motorcycle get his front tyre shredded. The kid couldn't control the bike, which went into a skid and dumped the kid on the ground.

The Plutarkian who had taken the pot-shot at him seconds earlier reajdusted his gun, aiming for the kid struggling to sit up on the ground.

_Oh hell no!_

Not even aware of what he was going to do until he was actually moving, Vinnie revved his bike and sped directly at the Plutarkian. The fish looked up and tried to aim at Vinnie, but was too slow. Vinnie hit the brakes at the last second, whipping the rear of his bike into the Plutarkian and sending him flying.

"Come on kid!" he yelled, reaching out and taking the boys arm, pulling him to his feet. Damn, he wasn't older than ten or so.

And then another laser whistled above his head. Startled, Vinnie looked up – and realised someone had just saved him from being blasted by another Plutarkian, one he hadn't seen.

"Move!" he shouted at the kid, who seemed to get the idea and leapt onto the pillion seat. Glancing around, Vinnie realised there was another mouse nearby, gun in either hand, blasting away at the Plutarkians.

"It's okay punk, I got your back," announced the newcomer.

"Great," said Vinnie, revving the bike. "Who's got yours?"

In response, the mouse let loose with a barrageof fire that put four Plutarkians down. "I don't need anyone watching my back."

_Damn,_ thought Vinnie, impressed in spite of himself. The mouse might have been about thirty or so, in good shape and really knew how to handle a weapon. And the bike was _amazing._

Unused to carrying a passenger, Vinnie had to concentrate on getting the kid away. The other mouse covered him well enough until he was able to ride through the fleeing masses, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with the kid and how he could get back...

"Swingarm!"

"Dad!" The kid waved frantically and Vinnie saw a mouse up ahead running towards them, obviously the kids father. He pulled the bike up short, there being a brief window of time they could call safe to do so. The kid leapt off his bike and ran over to his dad.

_And now that's done..._ Vinnie pulled his bike in a 180 degree turn and began to head back for Brimstone.

He didn't get far.

The mouse who had made the save for him pulled in his path, forcing him to a stop. "What the hell do you think you're doing punk?"

"I'm going to get my mom," growled Vinnie. "So you'd better get outta my way!"

"She won't be there!" The stranger raised his visor, revealing tan fur and an earnest expression in his pink eyes. "Everyone ran as soon as the invasion began!"

"I have to check."

The mouse pulled a gun and blasted casually at an approaching Plutarkian. "Kid, it's a suicide mission."

"And what's so bad about suicide missions?"

That drew forth a snort of surprised laughter. "You remind me of me. Look kid, they'll be setting up refugee camps somewhere, communications might be slow for a while, but we'll find her. But if you go running off back into Brimstone, you won't find her and you could be killed."

"But..."

"And there are other people who need you out here," he continued maddeningly. "You can help out against the Plutarkians... man, I must be insane to do this."

Vinnie widened his eyes as the mouse handed over one of his guns. "You know how to shoot one of these things?"

"Of course!" Vinnie couldn't help himself, he grinned widely. Shot at, attacked, almost blown up and given deadly weapons – it might have been the best day of his life, if it wasn't for the uncertainty of his mother.

"Names Stoker," said the mouse, gunning his engine and preparing to leave.

"Vinnie."

"You coming to help us then Vinnie?" 

Vinnie nodded slowly. Stoker was right, Stanchion wouldn't have hung around. Beside, that was one lady who could race fit to beat the devil, the same wild streak that Vinnie had inherited. He didn't doubt that she was safe somewhere.

He just wished he knew _where_.

"Let's get as many of these citizens to safety as we can – and take out a few Plutarkians too," said Stoker, pulling a wheelie. "Time to rock – and ride!"

&&&&&

Throttle zig-zagged around blasts hitting the ground ahead of him, narrowly avoiding wiping out several times. He was a competant biker but he wasn't used to this – and the added weight of Chopper didn't help matters either. He too had never had anyone riding behind him before.

"Don't you have a gun or anything?" yelled Chopper, ducking as a laser whizzed above her unprotected head.

"Why would I?" Throttle yelled back in annoyance, checking his rear view mirror. In the distance, he could see his prim-and-proper mother riding her own bike, speeding around blasts and debris with a surprisingly dexterous touch.

_Mom, I never knew you had it in you!_

"Um, in case of _alien invasion_?" suggested Chopper.

"Mom says that violence should be a last resort," said Throttle and immediately wished that he hadn't.

"I got news for you! This _is_ the last resort!"

"I don't have a gun Chopper!"

"Dammit!" Chopper hung on to Throttle's waist for dear life, trying to avoid being blasted. "Just – get us out of here!"

"What do you think I'm _trying _to do?" asked Throttle between gritted teeth.

Ahead of him, he could see mice on motorcycles racing out of Brimstone as the city behind him burned. He narrowed his eyes. Just a little further and they would be out of this madness. And they just had to hope there was some kind of safe haven where they could regroup.

"Where are we going?" asked Chopper, setting his teeth on edge again.

"Does it matter? Away from here!"

"I wanna _know_!" whined Chopper in the manner of bratty 12 year olds everywhere.

At that moment, a large blast took out the ground almost directly in the bikes path. Throttle managed to keep the bike upright – but it was a close thing. For a moment, he was sure they were going to wipe out.

"Chopper," he said once they had righted themselves. "_Shut up!_"

For a wonder, Chopper did as she was told.

The city limits came into view – and then they were past them, heading out into the Martian landscape. In the rearview mirror, Throttle could see the city of Brinstone englufed in flame, the citizens running for their lives, everything he had ever known destroyed...

_And wasn't mom right behind you?_

Hitting the brakes, he brought the bike to an abrupt stop, ignoring Chopper's complaints. Putting his feet on the ground, he turned to see if he could see anything. There were mice everywhere in various states of terror or pain or confusion – and none of them were his mother.

Suddenly he felt very young and very afraid.

&&&&&&&

"Rimfire, Primer – you both behave yourselves. I'm counting on you."

The twins looked up at Modo with wide, solemn eyes. Primer especially could usually be counted on to make some comment or act up, but she seemed to have read the lines of tension in Modo's face because she remained silent.

"Good kids." Modo reached out and tousled their hair. "Mom, sis, head for Utopia. I don't know if the invaders will get here, but it's best that you get out of the way while they do. And the citizens of Brimstone are gonna need help."

His sister Ballista was elder than Modo by more than ten years, but she seemed younger at that moment. "You're not coming with us?"

"I gotta get daddy outta here. You four go, we'll be right behind you."

"He's staying to protect the farm?" His momma looked suddenly furious. "I'll go and talk some sense into that..."

"NO! Momma, it's too dangerous. I'll get him. You take care of Ballista and the kids."

For a moment it looked as if she would argue, then she shrugged and nodded. "And if he's too stubborn Modo, you get out of here. I mean it."

I know." Modo kissed his momma on the forehead. "Now go. I'll catch up."

With a last look behind them, the two females rode away, Rimfire behind Ballista and Primer behind his grandma. None of them seemed happy to be leaving.

Modo watched as the tail lights vanished into the distance, aware that he could hear sounds from the direction of Brimstone – shouts, screams and explosions. This wasn't a skirmish. This was war.

As soon as he was satisfied the family had left, he raced to the field and his father.

"Daddy..."

"Modo, I told you to see to the women!"

"They've gone, but we need to go after them – the farm isn't worth this!"

"Son, it's all that we have and I won't see it wrecked and ruined by some – _fish_!"

"We can rebuild, but not if we're _dead_!"

"I told you to go Modo."

"I won't leave you!"

"Then grab a gun." His father handed him a weapon, having obviously raided the armoury while Modo sent his family away. "Because we have company."

Modo looked up slowly, seeing the Plutarkian troops coming across the fields, weapons out. Not firing. Yet.

"Daddy..."

"We protect what's ours Modo."

His father opened fire and Modo followed suit, knowing even as he did that they were woefully outnumbered and this was one fight they could never win.

&&&&&

The fighting was finished.

Brimstone still burned, the bodies of both Mice and Fish laying in the debris. But the city was mostly silent, it's inhabitants fled.

Some miles away from the city, a small band of bikes made its way to the army base located there. Stoker led the way, followed by a group of mice who had been returning fire with the Plutarkians – and Vinnie, who had fouund himself among them.

"Hey Stoke, why the army base?"

Stoker shot him a look before turning his attention back to the road. "Listen punk, the attack on Brimstone was just the start. If the Plutarkians want a war, they've got one. But we need weapons. Best place for that kinda thing is the army barracks. Besides... reason I was in Brimstone is because I was on my way to visit my brother. Him and his wife and kid live on the barracks."

"Oh." Vinnie wondered just how many mice were in a state of low-grade terror, waiting for news of loved ones, to find out if they were alive – or if the news was bad. It brought all the questions about his mothers well-being back home.

"Damn!" said one of the other mice and they all turned their attention to the army barracks.

It was a massacre.

Even in the distance, they could see the bodies of mice lying within the confines, some still hanging on to their weapons, others barely in possession of their limbs. The Plutarkians had been thorough.

"Oh hell no!"

Stoker put on a burst of speed and Vinnie, in spite of his skills, could barely keep up. Pulling his gun, Stoker shot at the gates and they swung open as his bike approached, letting him come to a halt in the centre of the barracks.

"Fish are long gone," he muttered angrily. "This must have happened at the same time as Brimstone – I wondered where the army were."

"Ah, shit..." Vinnie looked around, feeling his gorge rising. There was blood everywhere, torn limbs, bodies – and the scent of death and fish. He fought valiantly not to run into a corner and throw up.

"Check everyone," said Stoker urgently. "Look for survivors."

"Survivors!?!" Vinnie was ready to inform Stoker how unlikely that possiblity was – then saw the mouses face and changed his mind. "Checking now."

The mice spread out and Vinnie decided to check in the door marked 'armoury'. Less chance of finding something truly gross that could make him lose his lunch and look a wimp in front of Stoker, more chance of finding something truly cool. A rocket launcher perhaps. After seeing the destruction of the Army base, he wouldn't mind handing out some payback.

Opening the door, he saw the bodies right away. Four of them, heaped in a corner as if they had backed up there and then killed. He clenched his hands angrily. Damn bastard Plutarkians! _Why_ had they done this?

Then he loked into the face of the closest and did a double-take. The resemblance to Stoker was subtle but unmistakable.

_Damn... his brother..._

There was another corpse beside Stoker's brother, an arm thrown around his waist, a woman with grey fur and dark hair. His wife perhaps. Half of her face was missing.

Vinnie looked away, biting his lip hard. No way was he going to break down here. He had a job to do. They were undoubtedly dead, but there were two more he had to be sure of.

Forcing himself to look, he saw the two behind, one in army gear, the other a kid of about his age, maybe a little older. Neither of them seemed obviously injured. Slowly, cringing inwardly, he made his way to the corner and reached to the kid, touching his hand to her neck to see if there was a pulse.

Just as he registered that indeed there was a pulse, his legs went from beneath him and he fell on his back, victim to a tail wrapped around his ankles.

The girl leapt to her feet, pointing her gun at him, shaking. Vinnie realised that she was going to shoot and whipped his own tail up, hitting her hands and knocking the blast wide. A hole appeared in the ceiling above them, raining down powder.

"Wait!" he said, putting his hands up in a placatory gesture and not trying to get up in case she saw it as aggressive. "I'm a mouse!"

The girl readjusted her gun, the barrel pointed at him, wavering. Vinnie hoped he had managed to cut through her shock, because otherwise he was in for a short future...

"We're here to help babe!" he continued, almost babbling.

"I'm not your babe..." Her voice sounded shocked, but Vinnie took the words as a good sign.

"Well, if you have a name I could use that," he told her.

"C-Carbine." Her voice strengthened slightly and her shaking grip on the gun tightened. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, we came to help..." Vinnie suddenly glanced back at the corpse of the woman. The resemblance was striking. Carbine had to be this woman's child – and she had been lying among the dead bodies of her parents. Of course she was shocked.

"Help." Carbine gave a humourless laugh. "Where were you when the fish came for us?"

"Brimstone – they attacked there too. Look, do you know a guy called..."

"Vinnie!" Stoker appeared at the door. "We heard gunfire..."

"It's fine Stoker," said Vinnie, aware that Carbine still had the gun pointed at him. "The lady's just a little – on edge."

Stoker glanced at her. "Carbine?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Stoker?"

"Yeah, it's me. Wanna let Vinnie get up? He's with me."

Carbine glanced at the gun as if she'd never seen one before, then dropped it. Vinnie sighed in relief as she ran across the armoury and into Stoker's arms.

"They over-ran the base – I don't know how! And everyone's dead – I had to pretend to be dead or they would have got me too...and they shot my mom and dad and just _laughed_..."

"I know kid, I know," said Stoker soothingly.

Sniffling, Carbine extracted herself from Stoker's hug. "I'm going to wipe every last one of them out of existence. They'll pay for this. I _won't_ let them win!"

"Good for you kid," said Stoker, smiling at her and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"But – the army..." Carbine indicated around her. "They'll have hit every base to wipe us out! I just... I'm – I don't know!"

"Hey kid." Stoker glanced over to the corner, where his brother lay dead and scowled. "We're Martians. And we can fight. We don't need to be army – we just need to be prepared to fight."

"Oh, I'll fight." Carbine wiped at her face. "No more tears. Payback. I'm ready."

Stoker looked troubled, but nodded. "Come with us. We're going to get those stinkfish – show them they messed with the wrong planet."

Carbine scowled determinedly. "I'm with you."

"So what does that make us, Freedom Fighters?" Vinnie tried to make a joke of it even knowing it wasn't the best thing to do but at a loss of how else to respond.

"Maybe it does make us that Vincent," replied Stoker, putting an arm around Carbine and leading her from the armoury. "Maybe it does."


	3. Sanctuary

Utopia was considered far enough from Brimstone to set up camp for the refugees fleeing the violence there. Usually, the Army would have been the straight on the scene, first fighting the Plutarkian invaders and then assisting in aiding the survivors. But the Army had been conspicuous by their absence, which didn't reassure any of the mice. The cave mouse population of Utopia was far smaller than that of Brimstone City, but did all they could to aid in the aftermath, opening their homes to total strangers, offering food and clothes to those who had fled with nothing. But there were many who had escaped the carnage and resources were scarce. And the mice were rudderless, confused and scared.

A cave had been set aside for those who were looking for family members and it was by far the busiest place in Utopia immediately after the arrival of the Brimstone residents. Many had been separated from loved ones in the confusion and it was there that they went to try to find them.

Throttle and Chopper headed straight to the cave, tired from the long ride and worried about their respective parents. It was likely that Chopper's would not be there – they hadn't even been in Brimstone when the invasion began – but Throttle knew his own mother had to be in the area somewhere. Assuming she had gotten away from Brimstone at all…

The whole cave was teeming with mice, some of them crying or shouting, others hurrying around searching the faces of the shocked mice, trying to find their families. Chopper stuck close to Throttle, worried by the noise and the masses. Normally this would have irritated him, but he had realised that the kid was his responsibility for now and was determined to look out for her. In spite of his outward stoicism, inside he was worried. There were so many mice here, it seemed impossible he would ever find his mother in all this….

"Throttle?"

Hearing his name called across the room, he turned quickly even as he registered the voice was not that of his mother. A vaguely familiar woman was hurrying toward him, almost running, and it took a moment for him to realise where he knew her from – it was Vinnie's mother, Stanchion. A wave of relief washed over him, followed by unease. Stanchion was a relatively young mouse, but at that moment fear was twisting her features and making her look old and haggard.

"Hi Stanchion…"

"Is Vinnie with you?"

Throttle's heart leapt into his mouth as he shook his head. "I didn't see him at all – isn't he here?"

"He was out at Red Rim Pass when the attack happened and – I can't find him anywhere."

"I'm sure he's fine," said Throttle, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Vinnie's got a habit of getting out of trouble. He might still be travelling here."

Stanchion managed a small smile. "He does have that habit doesn't he? And I'm so worried about Vinnie – are _you_ alright? Where are your parents?"

Throttle frowned. "I'm not sure. My mom was right behind us when we left Brimstone but we lost her somewhere and now I don't know where she is."

Stanchion's face lost some of its worry, replaced with determination. "And no one's spoken to you? Left you to deal with your sister alone? Damn, everyone's running around in a panic and no one's doing much of anything! It's about time there was more action and less aimless running around – come with me you two."

"But…"

"_Now_Throttle. Sorry sweetheart, I don't know your name."

"Chopper," muttered the girl, trailing along after Stanchion, Throttle going with them. He didn't have any other plan – and Vinnie's mother was nothing if not forceful.

Within the cave were several Utopian officials, looking harassed as mice harangued them for information on their family's whereabouts. Occasionally – _very_ occasionally – they were able to point the lookers in the right direction. But mostly the information they had was scant, it being too soon for proper records of the arrivals to be amassed. And the refugees were afraid and starting to get angry.

Stanchion marched up to the officials, ignoring the outraged comments from those waiting to find information. "You there! These two children are without their parents and you just let them stand here?"

"We're very busy ma'am…"

"That much I can see for myself – considered a little organisation around here?"

"Now listen – "

"No,_you_ listen. These mice are frightened and worried and you're not helping matters by letting them wander around this place. I suggest you find some locals to help you out – getting some queues formed would be a god start, then taking some names so you know just who's here and who isn't."

"That's a fine idea, ma'am," replied the official with a touch of sarcasm. "But our resources are rather stretched at the moment. There's no one left to help out here. Those in the infirmary take priority, then there's a hundred other things that need to be done…"

"Then have some of us help you. We're quite capable and keeping busy will focus them on something other than what they've lost."

"Fine then!" snapped the official. "Why don't you do something useful and let me get on with my job?"

"Just what I was planning." There was a megaphone lying on the desk near the official, for emergency use should it be needed. Stanchion reached past him and snatched it up, ignoring the startled protests. Throttle palmed his face. It wasn't too hard to see where Vinnie's impulsive streak came from. "What's your mom's name Throttle?" she asked.

"Altezza, but I don't think…"

"Attention everyone!" bellowed Stanchion, making Throttle and Chopper wince. "I'm looking for Altezza, I have her children Throttle and Chopper here!"

"Um, she's not my mom…" began Chopper nervously.

"Never mind that," said Stanchion, away from the megaphone, before raising it to her mouth again – only for the irate official to snatch it off her. "You're not helping…"

"_Throttle!"_

Throttle looked over as a familiar figure struggled through the masses and gave his first real smile since the whole nightmare had begun. His mother, alive and seemingly uninjured. "Mom!"

Altezza ran forward and wrapped Throttle in a hug, much to Chopper's amusement. Pushing aside his embarrassment, Throttle hugged her back. "I'm sorry Throttle, I had to take a detour – Chopper, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I knew Throttle would take care of you," she said, beaming with maternal pride, while Throttle blushed slightly.

Stanchion interrupted, a wistful look in her eyes as she watched the reunion. "I hate to break this up, but these guys are stretched too thin and getting nowhere fast. Altezza, think you can help me round up some folk to sort this mess out, maybe reunite them with their families?"

Altezza frowned. "I have to look after Throttle and Chopper..."

"Throttle's been doing a great job of that so far. They'll be fine."

"I'm sorry," said Altezza with a tight smile. "I don't believe we've met before."

"Stanchion," replied the white-furred woman blithely.

"Vinnie's mom," clarified Throttle.

"Ah." Atezza glanced around and seeing no sign of Vinnie, drew her own conclusions. "Well, now I know the children are safe, we should help out here."

"Good one girlfriend," said Stanchion, clapping the older woman on the shoulder with enough force to make her wince. "Throttle, why don't you take Chopper away from here? The less bodies in this place, the easier it makes our job."

Throttle nodded and led Chopper out of the cave, into an open air that seemed equally busy, overrun with mice, motorcycles and mayhem. Mice from Brimstone were still arriving, some injured with varying degrees of seriousness. Several amateur medics were dealing with the less severe wounds with bandages, others were being carried off to the already overflowing infirmary. Many of the uninjured were wandering around with no aim apparently in mind, uncertain of what to do. But there were others with the bright light of anger in their eyes, muttering furiously about the invaders. Throttle suspected that once things were stabalised, anger would be the overriding emotion in all the mice. Anger – and the need for revenge, to fight the invaders and reclaim the planet.

"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Chopper as they walked.

"I'm grabbing my bike, then I guess we find a place to wait." Throttle found his bike parked amongst several others, but chose to walk with it rather than riding – too many mice around meant that it would be almost impossible. "Mom and Stanchion could be ages yet."

"I always thought that the Army would organise a relief mission," said Chopper timidly.

"So did I," replied Throttle grimly. "But they're nowhere – and that's a really bad sign. There was more than one army base on Mars and if one got hit, there should have been others out here. But nothing. I think the Plutarkians targeted the Army, so they'd have no opposition."

"No opposition my tail!" said Chopper indignantly. "The Army aren't the only mice who can fight!"

Throttle laughed. "Sorry kid, I don't think you're old enough to pick up a gun and start fighting yet."

"Well neither are you," whined Chopper.

"Perhaps," said Throttle, his face thoughtful. "But if this goes to all-out war – and it probably already is – then they'll think I'm old enough."

"Whatever." Chopper pointed out a group of rocks, almost empty save for a woman and a couple of kids about the same age as Chopper. "Why don't we ask if we can share their rock? It's as quiet as it's gonna get around here."

"Yeah, fine." Throttle was pretty tired himself after everything that had happened. He didn't care who he sat with right then. But as they drew closer, he realised there was something familiar about the woman and kids, although he couldn't place it right away.

"You mind if we sit here too?" asked Chopper, smiling at the woman in an attempt to be friendly. Privately, Throttle wondered if her decision where to sit was affected by the two kids there. He probably wasn't much fun for a kid four years his junior to be around and everyone was too distracted to give her much attention.

"Huh?" The woman looked up from whatever thoughts she was having and took in Chopper. "You go ahead darlin', sit down."

"Thanks!" Chopper perched on a rock and smiled at the two other kids – a tan furred girl and a grey furred boy with a wild orange stripe through the middle of his hair…

And suddenly Throttle knew where he knew them from and could have kicked himself for not realising earlier, a sign of how tired he really was. He had only met them twice, when going out to Modo's farm – his sister and her two children. "Ballista, isn't it?"

The woman looked at him, startled, then she managed a small smile. "You're Modo's friend. Throttle?"

"Yeah." Throttle decided to sit opposite her on his bike, feeling suddenly, ridiculously happy. "Where is the big lug anyway?"

Ballista stared at the floor. "He didn't come with us."

"…_What?"_

"Daddy didn't want to leave the farm, in case the fighting in Brimstone spilled over and did damage – and Modo stayed behind to try to talk him out of it." She sighed heavily. "Momma's trying to find out if they arrived here since… I mean, they wouldn't just stay behind…"

Throttle wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself, but nodded his agreement anyway. It would do her no good to lose the fragile hope she harboured for the safety of her father and brother. But his stomach was twisting itself into knots. Vinnie was missing, Modo was missing… he couldn't be the only one of them to have made it to safety.

Could he?

&&&&&&&&

Stoker had chosen a spot for the group to settle in for the night, far enough from both Brimstone and the Army base that they were hopefully out of mind. It wasn't that easy of course. Not being able to see the destruction of Brimstone or the massacre at the base wasn't enough to erase the images from their memories.

Vinnie walked over to Carbine, who was in the process of stripping down a gun, and took a seat beside her. "Hey there."

She gave him a hostile glance before returning to the gun.

"I'm Vinnie? Remember, you tried to shoot me earlier?"

"You must get that all the time," she replied, laying several components of the weapon beside her.

"Nope, it was my first time," he said with mock seriousness. "But at least you were gentle with me."

She looked at him with complete disbelief, but Vinnie maintained his innocent expression. After a moment she looked away again, shaking her head.

"Y'know, you're pretty good at that," he told her, watching as she easily dismantled the weapon.

"I'm an army brat," she told him, a bitter edge to her voice. "You pick things up."

"Would you teach me how to do it?" Carbine raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "I've never had much of a chance to learn weapons. But hey, I'm good – probably be out-doing you in a few days. Or is that what you're worried about?"

"Worried?" Carbine gave him a look of total disdain. "About you? I don't think so."

"And that means you'll give me a few pointers?"

Carbine sighed and gave up working on the gun. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. If we're gonna fight the Plutarkians, we need as many good fighters as we can get. Even if they are just kids."

"Hey!" Vinnie looked affronted. "Sweetheart, I'm not even a year younger than you!"

"Whatever." Carbine gathered the pieces of the gun and stood. "But – not tonight. I'm not in the mood."

"That's cool," said Vinnie, unsmiling. "I do understand y'know."

"I doubt that," replied Carbine quietly, looking off into the distance. "And I hope you never do." With that, she strode away, leaving Vinnie to contemplate the events of the day, a small frown on his face. He had worries of his own – he had no way of knowing where Stanchion might be. And his friends, Throttle and Modo – he wanted to know what had happened to them too.

_But maybe there's a way I can find out… _

Standing, Vinnie went over to where Stoker was talking to one of the others they had picked up while fighting in Brimstone, a tan-furred woman with red-black hair. Avarage biker, crack shot, Vinnie recalled from the memories of fighting alongside her. "…Take the first watch Stoker," she was saying as he approached. "I'm too keyed up to sleep right now."

"Thanks Denel," Stoker replied, glancing over at Vinnie. "There's enough firepower from the Army base to keep any Plutarkian scum at bay. But nothing powerful enough to take out a ship. See any of those…"

"I know, I know. Holler." Denel gave Vinnie a friendly wink and headed off, presumably to give them some privacy.

"Hey punk," said Stoker with relative cheer. "What's up?"

"Um…" Vinnie rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I was wondering – where the residents of Brimstone would have gone and if there's any way to get in touch with them."

Stoker gave him a lopsided smile. "Still worried about your mom?"

"Well, yeah." Vinnie gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "I'd just like to know she's okay, y'know?"

"I know." Stoker thought for a moment. "I might be able to get in touch with a friend from Brimstone. Tough guy, didn't see him while the fighting was going on but no way did anything happen to him. I'll see if I can get in contact with him and maybe he can find your mom. What's her name?"

"Stanchion," replied Vinnie, feeling suddenly relieved. "He should know if she's there – she's got white fur, like me and she's probably – um, not keeping a low profile."

"Like you too, huh punk?" Stoker punched Vinnie's arm affectionately. "Don't worry kid. We'll find something on her. Hell, might even be able to patch ya through to talk to her."

Vinnie allowed himself a relieved grin. "Thanks."

"No problem." Stoker lost his smile. "Half the mice here have lost family or friends today, or have no idea what happened to them. If we can find Stanchion for you, it's one good thing to come out of this whole mess."

"And we'll cure this whole mess when we kick those stink-fishes off our planet," growled Vinnie, clenching his fists.

"That's the spirit kid." Stoker clapped Vinnie on the back. "Before we move on in the morning, I'll get in touch with him, see if we can chase her down."

Vinnie nodded. "You want me to take the watch after Denel?"

"Hell no," said Stoker, regaining some of his cheer. "We got plenty of people with more experience than you. Just get some rest, got a long day tomorrow."

"Right," said Vinnie. "Just where are we going?"

"We need information and we need it now, before the fish take advantage of the confusion. We find out where they all are and if anywhere else was hit. And what their plans are."

Vinnie nodded. "I heard some rumours."

"We all heard the rumours about the Plutarkians. But I never heard of them launching an all-out attack like this. Whatever the reason, we need more information – and more mice. The handful of us ain't gonna be much use against a whole army."

"I might know a couple of guys," said Vinnie, thinking of Throttle and Modo.

"Look punk," said Stoker, not unkindly. "It's one thing to take you on, didn't have any choice back there. And you proved yourself. But I don't want to be recruiting teenagers all the time. We need people who can fight now."

Vinnie nodded, not really agreeing but not feeling up to arguing either. "Well – gonna catch some Z's. Later."

"Later kid." Stoker watched as Vinnie took off back to his bike, waiting patiently. A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded when Carbine stepped out from behind a rock hidden in the shadows. "You hear much of that kid?" asked Stoker.

"I wasn't trying to listen in," replied Carbine defensively. "I was just – I wanted to talk to you and I didn't want Vinnie to hear."

"About what happened at the base?"

"Yeah." Carbine sighed and perched on the rock beside Stoker. "My mom and dad…"

"Went down fighting." Stoker took her hand and squeezed it. "I always knew my bro would go down that way. He save your life?"

"Told me to get down and stay down when he knew the Plutarkians were too much for us. Play dead. And when they left – I didn't want to get up in case they came back. Maybe if I had done…"

"There was nothing you could have done Carbine," he told her seriously. "For crying out loud, you're just a kid. I know you don't like to hear it, but it's true. You handled things better than most grown mice could. One teenage girl against an entire army – wouldn't have ended well kid."

"Don't call me kid." Carbine sat in silence for a moment, then sighed. "I just keep thinking, if only there was something I could have done, if I'd been there…"

"Hey." Stoker put a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You don't think I feel the same way?"

"Why would you?"

"I was on my way to see my bro and I stopped off in Brimstone to grab something to eat and a rest before I got there. I didn't need to, it wasn't far, but I thought it would help if I weren't tired and hungry when I arrived. If I hadn't stopped, I would have been at the base already and maybe I could have helped. But I wasn't and now my brother is dead. You think I don't carry some guilt about that?"

"I – I didn't realise…"

"But the guilt shouldn't be mine, or yours," continued Stoker. "There was nothing we could do. Because it isn't your fault or mine that your parents were killed. It's down to the fish that killed them. Not us. Them."

Carbine nodded, her features set in an expression of determination. "I won't rest until they leave this planet."

"Atta girl." Stoker put an arm around her and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry kid. No one deserves this shit."

"No one else will have to go through it if I have anything to do with it." Carbine gave Stoker a watery smile, although she refrained from shedding any tears. "Thanks Stoker."

"Anytime, niece." Stoker rarely admitted their relationship, as was the way on Mars – any admission of relatives was a way to get at various mice and it was frowned upon to admit family ties save for mothers. But Stoker wanted to remind her that she wasn't alone without her parents.

And it seemed to work. Carbine hopped off the rock and gave him a slight smile. "Y'know Stoker, you're pretty good at raising morale."

"Thanks kiddo. Just – don't expect to get over this right away. And don't cut yourself off either. We do understand – I understand. It's hard to lose those you love and no one expects you to get over it overnight. No one expects you to get over it at all."

"I'll be fine Stoke," replied Carbine. "I don't have time for a breakdown now. I'll have it later, when Mars is safe."

"Carbine," said Stoker worriedly. "That's not healthy."

"_Screw_ healthy!" Carbine spun around to face him. "How many of us have they killed? I will not rest until they pay!"

"Honey…."

"I mean it Stoker," she continued. "I'll do whatever it takes to get them out. Save Mars. I'll get it done." And with that she strode off back to her bike. Stoker sighed and shook his head. The kids around this place would be death of him yet. Assuming the Plutarkians didn't get there first.


	4. Time

Time went by.

The war continued. The Plutarkians were determined to have Mars and the mice were equally determined not to give it up. The other inhabitants of Mars – the Rats and the Sand Raiders – seemed to find the war a good excuse for profit.

Publically, the Rats allied themselves with the Cave Mice, but there was little sign of the camaraderie when it came to battle. They insisted on none-involvement in actual skirmishes, while giving only 'moral support'. Few of the Mice found it of benefit – which left the Mice fighting the invaders alone. Most of the mice who were able joined the fight in some way, many choosing the various bands of Freedom Fighters that abounded across the planet. Those unable to fight physically aided in other ways, with the settling up of refuge camps kept as hidden from the Plutarkians as possible.

Stoker's little group grew almost overnight as the Mice lost their confusion and got mad instead. Remaining in touch with other groups in other cities, they remained in Brimstone, where the fighting had begun and remained heavy.

Stoker led the team into battle, shouting and hollering through the whole thing. Stoker had a way of making the fighting seem almost fun. Their none-soldiers were a mechanic, Harley and their communication officer Mace. More often than not Carbine and Vinnie were left behind too, much to their disgust.

"Come on Stoker," Carbine frequently argued with him. "I can understand why you'd make Vinnie stay behind…"

"Hey!"

"…But I'm ready!" she continued, ignoring the white-furred mouse's protestations. "I can do more than just recon – and you know it."

"And if she's ready, then I am too," announced Vinnie, folding his arms and glaring. "I'm a way better biker…"

"You wish."

"Sweetheart, you're good," he replied in the nonchalant tone that infuriated her. "But ain't no one better than the Vin-man!"

"You keep on telling yourself that, 'Vin-man'," Stoker smirked, while Carbine rolled her eyes. "Maybe when you get a bit older."

"Great," growled Carbine moodily. "Still stuck at the kids table – with _you_."

"At least it's a great view babe!" Vinnie waggled his eyebrows at her and gave a grin.

Carbine pointed a finger in his face, forcing him to lean back. "One of these days, I'm gonna rip off your ears and pin them to your tail, _Vin-man_."

Stoker clapped Vinnie on the back as Carbine stormed off. "You sure got a way with the ladies punk."

"I'm just too cool and handsome and – _stuff_. Makes her nervous." Vinnie grinned at Stoker, the two having formed an easy camaraderie thanks in the main to Stoker actually managing to contact his friend from Brimstone, who had indeed been with the other refugees and managed to locate Stanchion. Both mother and son had been relieved to hear that the other way safe.

Vinnie had told Stanchion that he was remaining with the Freedom Fighters and Stanchion, with no real other options, had agreed, warning him to be careful and throwing a few threats Stoker's way about what would happen if anything happened to 'her baby'. Vinnie had been embarrassed beyond belief and wondered if those comments were the reason he got treated like a kid – and if that had been his mothers' intention all along.

Stanchion of course had planned just that and done what she had to let Stoker know just how young Vinnie really was – she wouldn't put it past him to lie about his age just to get in on the action. But she knew her son too well. Trying to stop Hurricane Vinnie when he was determined was an impossible feat, something she was secretly rather proud of.

With her whole life destroyed in Brimstone and her son gone, she threw herself enthusiastically into the attempts to get the Martians from the city on their feet in this much smaller and suddenly overcrowded town. She had the intention, but follow-through was really not her thing. That was where Altezza and Ballista came in.

The three made an unlikely trio, but forged a cautious friendship based on their need to do something about the situation with the Plutarkians. Altezza, the oldest of them, fussed around with details and insisted on methodical, careful ways. Stanchion rallied other mice to help them out and threw herself into any task given to her, for about ten minutes, leaving the smaller details to Altezza. And Ballista, who had spent her whole life on a farm, knew a lot more than most of the mice in the area about how to provide food and drink for the encampment, sharing the knowledge and generally overseeing things.

Modo and his father never did show up.

Ballista held out the hope that they had merely gone elsewhere in the confusion as they left Brimstone, but rarely discussed it. Instead, she worked hard to take her mind off it, leaving her two children with her mother to help the older woman stop worrying for a while and to make her feel useful. After some persuasion, Altezza began leaving Chopper with her too. It kept the young girl out of the way as they worked and was far better for her than being forced to be around the adults.

Throttle declined to accompany Chopper there, claiming he was too old for a babysitter and realising, although never saying, that his presence only reminded the family that Modo was missing. He made himself useful as a lookout, learning as much as he could about guns from an elderly mouse called Spark who had been in the army before he retired and had taken over the job of teaching some of the mice how to defend the camp should the need arise. He also took off on his bike whenever he thought he could get away with it – his mother didn't like that at all. Most mice lived below the ground in a series of caves and tunnels and Altezza thought it was safest for him to remain there, out of sight of the invaders and with more chance of escape should they ever be targeted. But he hated being cooped up.

More than that, he hated _hiding_.

They had the same argument at least once a day and the outcome was always the same. Throttle would try to make his mother see sense and Altezza would flatly refuse to see his point of view.

"But mom, I'm old enough to go join the Freedom Fighters, actually do some good…"

"You're doing some good right here," replied Altezza. "This is where you're needed."

Throttle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "But there are a lot of people here, everyone's more or less back on their feet – we won't be able to survive her forever, not unless someone actually goes out to stop the Plutarkians instead of hiding!"

"There's mice out there fighting for us – don't you worry, they'll stop the advance."

"They need all the mice they can get for the Freedom Fighters!"

"Throttle!" Altezza glared at him, making him feel about 6 years old even though he was almost a foot taller than her. "You are a child. You're too young!"

"Stanchion didn't mind Vinnie joining."

"Stanchion minded. She just didn't have much of a choice at the time. And she's – eccentric. You're here and you'll do as I say. And I say you're too young!"

"I can _do_ this!" Throttle paced the floor, agitated. "I'm good, I'm a good shot, a great biker, the Freedom Fighters_ need_ mice that can do those things…"

"Do you want to die?"

"Mom!"

"In case you haven't noticed, what's going on out there is not a skirmish or a game – it's a _war_. It's not pretty and it doesn't matter how good a shot you are or how fast you can ride that bike of yours, if you get stuck out in the middle of a battle you could be injured or killed or taken prisoner by the Plutarkians. There are Freedom Fighters coming here all the time with injuries that could make you think twice about ever leaving this camp again! This is not a game, not something you're being deprived off, it's _real war_."

Altezza stopped, deflating slightly before continuing, more quietly than before. "Throttle, I don't want to lose you. You're not even old enough to live alone yet and you want to go and get yourself blown up? I couldn't stand it."

Throttle looked at the floor guiltily. "Mom, that's not gonna happen."

"You don't know that. Anything can happen in a battle. Anything at all. I'm not going to let you throw your life away on this Throttle. You're doing more good here, looking after the others who can't fight and keeping them safe. You're a lot better far away from the fighting."

And Throttle, too guilty about worrying her, always left it at that.

Chopper, who had become something of a baby sister to him after her parents didn't show up and she remained with him and Altezza, was dismissive of the woman's worries. "Throttle, for crying out loud. You said that Vinnie's younger than you. If they let him join the Freedom Fighters, they'll let you. You're good at all that stuff."

Throttle shrugged, sitting back on his bike. He and Chopper were outside, away from the noise and bustle that made up the caves and tunnels beneath Utopia, trying to catch some peace. "Maybe. But she worries. You know how she is."

"You're gonna stay here for the rest of your life to make sure your momma doesn't worry?"

"No, but I guess I can wait a little longer. It's not long until I will be old enough."

"And what then? You know she'll just try to talk you out of it again."

"She can't. If I'm old enough, she can't stop me."

"Oh please." Chopper snorted. "Have you heard yourself? Really think you'll be able to put your foot down where she's concerned?"

"Have to do it someday."

"Yeah, but she's even better at Grandmamma when it comes to talking you into things, only Grand momma's not so overprotective."

Throttle glanced at her, amused. "How long have you been calling Modo's momma 'Grandmamma'?"

Chopper kicked at the ground. "She doesn't mind. And with my parents gone and all – you're changing the subject! Stop it!"

"I'm not changing the subject, just curious."

"I was just thinking…" Chopper leaned back and looked into the red sky. In the distance a bright light shone from somewhere to the East, although it was too far to tell from where. Maybe Brimstone was burning again. "If it were me, I'd leave a note and just go."

"Chopper!" Throttle raised his eyebrows. "That's not exactly the smart thing to do. She'd worry even more. And it seems – sneaky. Kinda cowardly."

"Not really, not if it's going to cause more problems if you leave with her hanging onto your leg kicking and screaming."

"I wouldn't do something like that, so get the idea out of your mind," said Throttle firmly.

But the seeds of the idea refused to leave his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the Plutarkians continued with their invasion. Every day, soldiers would target the planet, bringing heavy mining equipment and digging up what they could, defending the machines and the territory against the Freedom Fighters. Civilians were dispatched, either as prisoners or corpses. And the Freedom Fighters were too few against an army of thousands.

Every day, the rumours would hit both the Freedom Fighters and the various camps set up to cope with the Martians fleeing the fighting on different parts of Mars. Some of the stories were wildly exaggerated, others were all too true. And with the problems faced with communications between fighters, citizens and Government, no one was ever sure what to believe.

Day by day, Stoker got more worried. He was in touch with several of the other Freedom Fighter groups, they in touch with others. It had been decided from the start that it was not a good idea for one group to know of all the others in case of capture, but that caused problems of its own, not knowing who they could turn to for backup or to give warnings when they learned any of the Plutarkian plans.

And it didn't even seem to work. The Plutarkians seemed to expect the groups of Freedom Fighters that showed up to stop them, sometimes even discovering their hideouts. Stoker had no desire for their own location to become known, but it seemed unlikely for the time being. Only their own small group knew exactly where they were.

Mace complained frequently and bitterly about the lack of communications and the poor equipment and on more than one occasion, they had put themselves in the line of fire for no reason other than to find more electronics they could use to widen their range of radio. And for all his hard work, they never seemed to get much extra power and the little they picked up from Plutarkian transmits was of little use.

The news wasn't all bad. There were some small victories, with the Plutarkians being held to a standstill in Brimstone, Cassini, Milankovic, Hershel and Mie. Other areas were more changeable, the advantage being gained and lost on seemingly a daily basis. And there were still other areas which had been mined completely, the resistance defeated and the precious resources stripped, places like Xanthe, Schiaparelli and, most worryingly, the entire Vastitas Borealis.

It was shortly after receiving the news of Vastitas Borealis that Stoker pulled Carbine aside and asked for a word with her. Carbine agreed, hoping that finally she was going to get her shot with the rest of the Freedom Fighters.

It turned out, that wasn't quite what Stoker had in mind.

In a small room away from the main area of the hideout was a map of Mars. On it, Stoker had been placing pins – red for where there was no more land left to steal, white to indicate definite Plutarkian activity, blue for unknown areas and green where there were no Plutarkians. The green areas were depressingly small.

"You're the best we've got at this kind of thing kid," said Stoker and Carbine and she beamed, letting the 'kid' comment slide. "I need to find the quickest way to get to Fossae and we need to avoid getting into a fight if necessary."

Carbine examined the map, thinking it over. "This is the quickest way," she told him, pointing out a route. "But it means going through the unknown section and if there are Plutarkians there, you'll lose time. Also, there's a lot of Sabre Squid activity in that sector. Best way to get there without interruptions is about twenty Ks north of that, through here. That's if you really want to avoid a fight. Since when was that a Freedom Fighter priority?"

"A message went out on the grapevine," replied Stoker. "Government are trying to rally everyone together instead of having all the Freedom Fighters separately. It's been pretty impossible so far, because of the need for secrecy and losing the Army the way we did. But if we stand any chance of winning, then the whole planet needs to be united, not just running around chasing our own tails. There's a meeting in Fossae for those who get the message, in a couple of days. And we need this – I'm not a military commander Carbine, I'm just an old biker who can fight."

Carbine frowned. "Why now?"

"Huh?"

"I would have thought the Government would have tried to gather the population months ago."

"Maybe they did. We're pretty scattered though and the Plutarkians are everywhere."

"Stoker," said Carbine quietly. "Did you think this could be some kind of trap?"

"I got the message from Comet, over in Mie. Known him since before all this took off. He can be trusted."

"And who told him?"

"It's just a chance we have to take kid," said Stoker. "We need to kick those fish off Mars and we can't do it alone."

With a sigh, Carbine nodded. "When do we leave?"

"_We_ leave at first light," replied Stoker. "_You_ stay behind with Mace and Vinnie."

"Stoker!"

"Kid, Mace is a non-combatant, you know that. And we need to leave someone behind to look after the place, make sure if the Plutarkians find it, there's nothing here they can use against us."

"But Harley's a non-combatant too!"

"We need to be there at the designated time. Need a mechanic there if the bikes break down." But Stoker didn't quite meet Carbine's stare and she rolled her eyes in disgust. Just more proof; put a pretty girl in front of a guy and no matter what his age, he'd make a fool of himself.

"Anyway, I need someone I can trust to watch things here, keep an eye on Vinnie and Mace." Stoker gave her a grin. "Hey kid, cheer up. You'll get some action someday."

"Yeah, when I'm a hundred and five," muttered Carbine under her breath as Stoker strode away. Turning back to the map, she glared at it furiously. She should have let them take the shortest route and deal with whatever came up. A moment later, she chided herself for the mean-spirited thought.

But the fact remained that once again, she was being left out. And no matter what Stoker said, it was because he thought she was nothing but a kid.


	5. At Red Rim Pass

"Oh _man_," whined Vinnie as Stoker followed the rest of the Freedom Fighters to the exit of the hideout. "You're leaving without us?"

"Sorry rookie," said Stoker, smirking at Vinnie's outraged expression. "We need someone to stay behind and guard the hideout and you three got the short straw."

"C'mon Stoke, I need action!"

"I said _NO_!"

"Cool it Vinnie," said Mace from behind them. "You're not the only one who always misses the party."

"Tell me about it," growled Carbine, leaning against a wall and looking peeved.

"Cheer up punk," said Stoker. "Someone still needs to patrol the area, make sure the stink fishes aren't about to come down here. Wouldn't leave you here if I didn't think you could handle it."

"Humph." Vinnie remained unmollified.

"We can handle it," said Mace with a wide smile.

"See you in a couple of days," said Harley, flashing a sympathetic smile at Vinnie. Vinnie managed to smile back as they left, but inwardly he wasn't happy. Harley wasn't that much older than him or Carbine, three or four years tops. Why Stoker had taken her and left them was a mystery to him.

Mace went straight back to the communications instruments, claiming that they needed a lot more work still. Carbine took off for the armoury and Vinnie cheered himself by working on his bike for a while, routine maintenance for the most part. Some of it Stanchion had taught him and other things he had picked up off Harley, far better at motorcycle repairs than most of the mice at the hideout, although not as good as the resident mechanic by a long shot. He found it surprisingly calming, especially with the radio going full blast picking up a rock station from Earth.

He had just about got over his disappointment at being left out _again_, singing along loudly and tunelessly with the radio, when a shadow fell over him. He tried to stand in a hurry, forgot what was above him and banged his head against the handlebar.

"Yowch!" Rubbing his injured head, he looked up to see Carbine looking amused. "Sweetheart, give me some warning!"

"The noise you're making, you wouldn't hear me if I came in here with a full brass band," replied Carbine, smirking. "Nice singing."

"Oh, uh, you heard that?" Vinnie tried to look nonchalant. "Well, it wasn't really in my key…"

"I doubt any of them are," she told him. "Wanna go racing? If we take the West tunnel, we can come out right at Red Rim Pass. I'm going crazy sitting around here doing nothing."

"Aaooww! You read my mind dollface!" Vinnie leapt onto his bike, putting his helmet on. "What's my prize for winning?"

"I'll suffer through you bragging about it for ten whole minutes," replied Carbine, rolling her eyes. "Not that you're _going _to win. Weapons?"

"Check!" The white mouse produced two guns with a flourish, twirling them around his fingers – he would no sooner have wandered around without weapons than he would have without his pants. The key to surviving surprise attacks was to always be prepared. All the mice carried an assortment of other weapons, mostly grenades, and the bikes were fitted with guns and other modifications, but the guns were important in case of being separated from ones bike and unable to use a grenade without blowing ones self up.

"Then let's ride." Carbine gunned the engine of her own bike and gave a rare impish grin. "Ready to get smoked?"

Vinnie made an incredulous sound. "Sweetheart, you are racing against the Vin-man, the baddest mammajamma – hey!"

Carbine pulled a wheelie and sped off toward the tunnel in a cloud of fumes. Vinnie scowled and followed at top speed. No _way_ was he going to let her beat him!

He caught up to her a minute or so later, drawing level. "Cheater!"

"Hey, you were so busy singing your own praises, you mustn't have heard me say go."

"You just gotta learn a little patience."

"So speaks the model of restraint."

In response, Vinnie pulled a wheelie and rode ahead. "Last one to the Pass is a stinky cheese!"

_I'll never hear the end of it if he wins,_ thought Carbine, revving her own engine and attempting to get ahead of the white mouse. But Vinnie was surprisingly good and although she managed to draw level once, he burst out of the tunnel and into Red Rim Pass several seconds ahead of her. Pulling the bike around in a 180 degree turn, he rested his arms over the handlebars and waited for her to draw level.

"Too bad babe," he said with a smirk. "Hey, at least you got beat by the best."

Carbine narrowed her eyes, a smile playing on her face. "Oh, you ain't seen _nothing_ yet. That was just the tunnel. I can beat you in the open."

"Whatever you say," he replied, making it obvious he was just humouring her. He gave a quick glance toward the sky, which did not go unnoticed by Carbine, who looked up herself but saw nothing.

"Did you hear something?"

Vinnie looked a little embarrassed. "Nah, this is where I was when the invasion started. Just checking, y'know?"

Nodding, Carbine changed the subject. "First one to the North end of the Pass is the winner. Meet you at the biggest rock at the end – eat my dust!"

She set off at top speed, Vinnie in hot pursuit. Carbine stuck to the trail, veering left and right whenever Vinnie tried to overtake her, cutting off his path.

"Gonna be like that is it?" said Vinnie, a smile spreading across is face. "Because that's the way – uh-huh, uh-huh – I LIKE it!"

Singing cheerfully, he rode his bike straight up a rock, making a leap over Carbine's head and landing on the path ahead of her, raising his arms in a show of impending victory before taking off for the end of the Pass.

"Dammit!" Carbine tried to keep up, but she had to admit her bike skills just weren't as good as Vinnie's – and his bike was designed for sheer speed, whereas hers was of a more practical nature. She watched him vanish around the corner of the Pass and sighed. She'd wanted to race, but being beat twice in one day – well, he wasn't going to stop bragging about it for days…

And then she glanced over her shoulder and frowned. In the distance, she could hear something that sounded like an engine. Not a bike engine either. And there was a glare of light, like the sun catching on glass.

_Shit!_

Heading around the corner, she saw Vinnie parked up in the shade of the rock, off his bike and in the process of taking off his helmet. Hastily she pulled her own bike in behind his and leapt off, realising he was about to cheer loudly about his victory and knowing she had to stop him.

Vinnie grinned at her and opened his mouth to let out a loud "Aaooww!" – then let out nothing more than a squeak as Carbine slammed a hand over his mouth and shoved him back against the rock, listening intently and not taking her hand away. Instead, she gestured for him to hush up.

In the silence, they could both hear it – the engine heading their way. Not a bike; from the sound of it a Plutarkian all-terrain vehicle. Vinnie raised his eyebrows, but Carbine kept her hand firmly over his mouth. The last thing they needed was to be discovered thanks to him having no concept of 'quiet'.

The vehicle stopped on the opposite side of the rock they were behind and Carbine inwardly cursed their bad luck. There was no way they could leave quickly and quietly with the fish so close – they'd get seen for sure. All they could do was stay where they were and hope the Plutarkians went back the way they came without looking around too much – and that Vinnie did nothing to give them away.

Nothing much to worry about on that score at the moment anyway. He was frozen to the spot, wide eyed and hadn't tried saying anything – but she kept her hand over his mouth anyway, listening intently for the Plutarkians.

She heard the sound of the vehicle door slamming and winced. The last thing they needed was this.

"I told you there was nothing here," said a voice that was unmistakably Plutarkian. "Bike engines, huh."

"I'm telling you." The other voice sounded younger and sulky, another Plutarkian. "I heard something."

"There are no Freedom Fighters in Brimstone anymore," retorted the first voice. "They've all gone to Fossae to die. Hey, that was pretty good!"

Carbine and Vinnie exchanged horrified glances and Vinnie tried to whisper something past Carbine's restraining hand. She shook her head at him and gestured again for them to listen.

"And what if they didn't all go?" asked the younger voice.

"They all went! That was the idea; get all of them in one place. You're paranoid."

Carbine took her hand from Vinnie's mouth and stepped back from him, taking a gun from her jacket. Vinnie nodded and did likewise. Carbine used her fingers to count one – two – THREE! And on the final note, they both leapt over the rock and descended on the Plutarkians.

Her initial guess had been right – there were only two of them, some kind of patrol. They looked up startled, just in time to see the two teenage mice descend on them. Carbine aimed down with her gun, blasting the older one where he stood and sending him flying back into the vehicle he had just exited, slamming his head and lying motionless on the floor. Vinnie aimed a blast at the younger, who had at least had the sense to have his own weapon out, and knocked the gun from the Plutarkians hand. As he landed, Vinnie aimed a solid punch at the fish, catching him under the chin and knocking him to a dazed heap on the floor.

Carbine checked on the Plutarkian she had shot and found him unconscious, turning instead to see Vinnie grab the younger by the front of the uniform and yank him up.

"What's this about the Freedom Fighters?" snarled Vinnie, trying to sound tough without actually inhaling the smell of the fish.

"I'm not telling you anything, mouse," retorted the Plutarkian, attempting a tough voice of his own.

"Your choice." Carbine stood beside Vinnie, her gun pointed directly at the Plutarkians face. "You can talk, or you can decide not to talk. Ever again."

The Plutarkians face was a mask of terror. "The Freedom Fighters were given false information. We took the Martian Council and used their communications networks to spread the message around, that they should get to Fossae and meet up there. Then, when all the Freedom Fighters from all over Mars are together…"

"What?" Vinnie shook the fish none too gently. "What happens when they all get together?"

"I don't know! Really!"

Vinnie stopped his shaking and turned to Carbine. "Your call sweetheart. We believe him?"

"That's all he knows." Carbine stepped forward and slammed the butt of her gun on the Plutarkians head. He crumpled immediately.

Vinnie let go of the fish, letting him fall to the floor. Carbine indicated to the vehicle. "Should be something in there we can restrain 'em with. We can't let them go wandering around, telling their buddies we were here."

Heading for the vehicle, Vinnie found some Plutarkian Steel manacles that made him grimace. Had they not acted first, he and Carbine might very well have been the ones shackled in them. "Will these do?"

"Sure." Carbine caught the manacles as Vinnie gently threw them to her and bound the Plutarkians together, Vinnie helping her drag them behind some rocks out of sight of anyone who might happen past. Carbine drove the vehicle a short distance, hidden from sight, before returning to the Pass.

Vinnie was messing with the radio of his bike, his face frustrated. "You won't believe this. There's something wrong with the radio. I can't get in touch with any of the Freedom Fighters. I can't even reach Mace!"

"That's weird." Carbine went to her bike and tried several times to reach someone. Nothing. "Mine's doing the same. Plutarkians must have blocked our airways somehow. There's no way we can tell Stoker it's a trap!"

"There _is_ a way," replied Vinnie determinedly. "I'll head off to Fossae, catch up to the Freedom Fighters and warn them. You go back to base, tell Mace about it and get him to try to raise them on the radio somehow."

"What?" Carbine raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You don't even know the way to Fossae!"

"My bike does have a navigation system," Vinnie told her, as if talking to a particularly slow child.

"And there's areas of Plutarkian activity that your bike doesn't know about," added Carbine. "No, the safe way to play it is if we both go back to the hideout and have Mace get around whatever the Plutarkians have done to the radio waves."

"Safe?" Vinnie made a dismissive sound. "Boring! And what happens if Mace can't get through? The Freedom Fighters are toast!"

"I studied the map that Stoker has, the one that shows where the fighting is," Carbine told him. "And I know the route they're taking. There's a faster way, I can head them off before they get to Fossae._ I'll_ go after them; _you_ go back to the hideout and tell Mace."

The horrified look on Vinnie's face would have made Carbine laugh were the situation not so serious. "Babe, you're not_ serious_? This is a job for a studly macho guy! Like _me_!" To prove his point, he flexed his muscles at her.

"The point is, you don't know where you're going and you'll only get into trouble. I do know and I can warn them. Anyway, who told you that you were studly?"

"Hey, you can't argue with what nature gave me," Vinnie said. "And you can't go on your own – you're a girl."

Had the look Carbine gave Vinnie been any colder, he would have been trapped in a block of ice. "You noticed."

"Yeah, well, uh…. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Um, why is Stoker taking the longer way if there's a short cut?"

"He wanted to avoid delays and the shorter way has a section we know nothing about."

"So your shorter way involves you heading off through Plutarkian forces and who knows what else? Uh-uh, no way. I'm going with you."

Carbine shook her head. "You can't. Someone has to go back to the hideout and tell Mace about this."

"What can he do? Unless he can fix the radio, nothing!"

"I don't know Vinnie – you coming with me? I'm not sure that's a good idea…"

"Hey, if you're going to get shot at by enemies and attacked by Sabre Squids and ride hell-for-leather across Mars on an urgent mission, then the Vin-man is gonna be there!" He gave her his most charming smile. "Anyway, what kind of hero would I be if I let a lady travel alone?"

Carbine looked at the sky ruefully. "I am _so_ going to regret this…"

"Come on girl, live dangerously!" Vinnie leapt on his bike, put on his helmet and tipped her a wink. "Ready to go save the planet?"

Nodding, Carbine put on her own helmet, hiding a smile – his enthusiasm was infectious. Mounting her bike, she mentally traced the route they would be taking and quickly logged the information into her bikes navigation system. "I'm ready. Let's rock – "

"_And ride!"_ they finished in unison, laughing and whooping as they headed off, finally a real part of the Freedom Fighters – and their only hope of survival.


	6. Ride Like The Wind

_"So I riiide… like the wiiind… to be free again!"_

Carbine could hear Vinnie singing loudly just ahead of her and rolled her eyes, not for the first time that day. He was completely infuriating. When he wasn't singing he was boasting about his skills or his appearance and she'd given up telling him to use her name rather than 'Babe' or 'Sweetheart' about a month after she joined the Freedom Fighters.

Still… he'd been surprisingly thoughtful ever since they began this dash across the planet. He'd kept a low profile, just as she'd requested, even though he was obviously itching to take some of the wilder routes and leaps. And he'd deferred to her about the routes they took, even the ones that obviously didn't make much sense to him – he merely trusted her judgement and memory about the locations of the Plutarkians. They were in radio contact via their helmets; fortunately he remembered to turn his off before he began singing.

Now, she hit the button on the side of her helmet to speak to him. "Pull over a moment Vincent."

Obligingly, Vinnie halted his bike and glanced at her questioningly as she pulled up beside him.

"This is where our unknown area begins," she told him. "Proceed with caution."

"Caution is my middle name," replied Vinnie.

"Riiight." Carbine looked around the area. It was no different from much of Mars – desolate and apparently deserted, obviously struck in some past Plutarkian hit but no evidence that they had been there since.

"Could be there are Mice around here," said Carbine.

"Could be," agreed Vinnie. "But I don't see any caves."

That was true. Usually – but not always – there were caves that the mice used to access the underground tunnels. And there was often above ground evidence of Mice, having started to build above ground after a period of relative peace on the planet, before the invasion. Even if the area had been hit by Plutarkians, there should be evidence of those.

"We assume there's hostile presences and go on like that." Carbine flipped her visor back over her face. "Be on your guard."

"Don't worry babe, I got your back."

With a groan, Carbine set off again, musing that there was little more infuriating than when Vinnie decided to prove his masculinity. Vinnie kept up rather than racing off ahead as he had been doing, Carbine was amused to note. Perhaps he really was trying to keep an eye on her. He'd just have to learn that she didn't need anyone looking after her, particularly not some loudmouth hothead with an ego the size of…

The ground erupted in from of them. Carbine hit the brakes and had the fleeting image of something huge and reddish coloured rising in front of her before she spun 180 degrees and headed to safer ground before her bike could get stuck in the sand.

"Sabre squid!" Vinnie shouted through the radio link.

"What was your first clue?" replied Carbine, seeing Vinnie circling the creature, distracting the enormous tentacles away from her and toward him.

_Damn it Vinnie, do you have to play the hero?_

Carbine snatched a grenade from her stash and pulled the pin with her teeth just as Vinnie got careless. A tentacle slammed into him hard, sending both him and his bike flying. He landed on his back and skidded, some distance from his bike, slightly dazed.

Carbine threw the grenade with pinpoint accuracy. It landed directly in the centre of the writhing tentacles, the ground above where its main body would be, and exploded. The squid screamed as two of the tentacles were all but severed from the body, sprays of black ichor raining on the ground around the two mice. It screamed again, retreating back into the ground, leaving nothing but an indentation in the sand and the evidence of its injuries.

Vinnie stood, clots of the black gunk sticking to his fur and headed to the dent where the squid had vanished. "Do you think it's dead?"

"Sounded like it was dying." Carbine exhaled shakily.

"Oh man." Vinnie tried to get the black gunk from his body. "I never asked to be tall, _dark_ and handsome!"

Carbine laughed. "Better that then supper for a sabre squid!"

"Yeah." Vinnie gave her an embarrassed grin. "Thanks for the save Carbine."

"That's what I'm here for, _sweetheart_," she teased, wondering if this meant he'd stop treating her like a damsel in distress. Too much to hope for long term probably, but at least for a while he might give it a rest.

Vinnie rolled his eyes and sighed in a passable impression of Carbine's usual look of disdain and she sniggered for a second, then remembered something that Stoker had told them and fought it back. "Come on Vinnie, we have to go."

"Yeah, just a minute," he replied, still trying to clean his fur.

"_Now_ Vincent."

Vinnie looked at her in confusion and she frowned. "Remember what Stoker said? Sand Raiders hang around near Sabre Squid traps and wait for mice to fall into them to take them hostage. And since the war began, they've gone into the slave trade."

"Slavers?" Vinnie punched his fist. "Let me at 'em!"

"We don't have time. Come on!"

Vinnie went to his bike, righted it and mounted, looking off into the distance. "Um, Carbine? These slavers – would they happen to travel in large packs and ride big damn metal pods on stilts?"

Carbine slowly turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a cloud of sand coming from a nearby hill and on closer inspection, the hyena-like creatures in their stilt-walkers. Sand Raiders.

"Crap!"

She leapt on her own bike and started the engine, aware that it was going to be close – too close. There were only six Sand Raiders but all were armed and as fast as they were going would be almost on top of them before they had even started.

And if she and Vinnie were captured, then it was all over. The Freedom Fighters would have no warning and the Plutarkians would win.

"Vinnie, GO!"

Vinnie started his bike and took off, kicking up sand behind him. Carbine was right behind him – then a blast tore up the sand in front of her bike, sending it into the dip and causing it to bounce and wobble alarmingly. Fighting for control, she was forced to sacrifice some speed – and paid for it as the head stilt walker hit her bike with one of its metallic legs, knocking her and her bike to the ground.

She landed on her side, the wind knocked out of her. Quickly, she forced herself to lean on an elbow and look up, to see the stilt walkers had stopped and two of the Sand Raiders were getting out and heading her way.

"Dammit!" She scooted into a sitting position and reached for her gun, knowing she stood no chance of getting to her bike in time…

And then a wall of solid sand seemed to rise up between her and the Sand Raiders, startling her. She raised a hand to keep the sand out of her eyes and scrambled to her feet, wondering what had happened.

"AAAAAAOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!"

Ah. That explained everything.

Grabbing her bike, she righted it and jumped on, hitting the radio button on her helmet. "Vinnie, we need to get out of here, now!"

"I'll be right behind you sweetheart!" His voice was manically cheerful and she decided he must be fine, hitting the accelerator and heading in the direction they had been travelling in.

The explosion took her by surprise, the shock waves almost knocking her off course again. She turned her head to look behind her, seeing the sand dying down to be replaced by a cloud of black smoke and flames as the lead stilt walker fell into the confusion…

And then a red bike riding at full throttle out of the smoke. Vinnie. Fur turned grey from the dirt; black in places from the sabre squid's blood, but at that moment Carbine thought he might just have been the most welcome sight on Mars. For a second, she had thought the Sand Raiders had got him.

"Come on!" he yelled into his radio – and was he laughing? Yup, laughing. The boy was crazy.

"You got them!" she yelled back, accelerating anyway since he seemed so determined to be gone.

"Just one! The others are pissed!"

A glance in her rear view mirror verified the truth of the statement – two more stilt walkers were coming from the smoke, heading at speed after them.

"We can outrun 'em sweetheart!" Vinnie was still shouting into his radio, almost deafening her. She found she didn't mind that much.

"If we hit an obstacle at this speed, they'll have to peel us off a rock!" Carbine felt her hair whipping across her back, strands flying across her visor and interfering with her vision. She didn't think she'd ever had the bike to this speed before, she was riding half blind with no idea what was over the next dune – and Vinnie wanted them to go _faster_?

"I know!" Vinnie laughed excitedly. "Imminent destruction! WHAT A RUSH!"

Carbine began to laugh herself, partly out of exhilaration and partly out of sheer terror, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Since her time as a Freedom Fighter, this was the closest she'd ever been to the action – and damn, she'd got all the action she could have ever wanted.

They both hit the next dune at speed and zoomed up it, neither daring to look behind and see how close the Sand Raiders were. At the summit their bikes left the ground and Carbine gave a small scream as she realised the other side of the dune, the side they hadn't been able to see, was a lot steeper than the side they climbed. A hell of a lot steeper. They were in a freefall jump a good fifty feet from the ground. The highest jump she had ever made was twenty.

"_Aaaoooww!"_

"_Aaaaahhhh!"_

Carbine's bike hit the ground first, the wheels wobbling fearsomely as they touched down and for a moment she thought she would wipe out for sure – then she righted herself and kept going, never letting off the accelerator and not entirely sure how she'd managed it. Behind her, she heard the screech of rubber as Vinnie's bike hit and she glanced in her rear view to see him weaving around before he straightened the bike and headed after her.

Giggling hysterically, Carbine spoke into her helmet radio. "Hey Vinnie? I beat you that time! HA!"

And for once, Vinnie was speechless.

&&&&&&&&

The Sand Raiders left behind them; they passed through acres of Martian desert without further incident. Carbine's hysteria passed, leaving her feeling soberly ashamed of herself. At one point, both bikes started bleeping urgently having detected a large Plutarkian presence a couple of miles away from their location, but they remained cautious and went out of their way so as to not attract attention.

Eventually, the light began to fade and Carbine spoke to Vinnie through her radio, telling him to pull over. She was feeling slightly tired, hungry and thirsty and in need of a wash. And with Vinnie's vain streak, she imagined he wanted that wash even more than she did.

Carbine removed her water canteen from her bike, frowning slightly. It was standard practice to carry them no matter how quick they expected to be – water was too precious a commodity on Mars to expect to find it easily in the field – but there wasn't a lot of it. The wash would have to wait. She'd need all the drinking water she could get… and then she had an idea, going into the saddlebag and pulling out the first aid kit she carried everywhere.

Vinnie was also thinking about having a wash, shaking the water around his own canteen with a sigh and glancing ruefully down at his grubby fur. "Well, that's just great," he muttered to himself, taking a swig of water. Hmm, maybe if he just washed a little…? No, had to preserve the water. Damn.

And then he noticed Carbine pouring an antiseptic liquid onto a bandage and frowned, going over to her. "You hurt yourself?"

"No." She rubbed at a spot on the back of her hand where the sabre squid blood had caught her. It came off easily.

"Your need is greater than mine," she said, handing him a roll of bandage and the bottle. She had been mostly out of the way of the sand squid when it was wounded and wore long sleeves. Vinnie however favoured no sleeves at all and he was white furred. Usually anyway. Right now, he looked grey with dirt from the explosion while fighting the sand raiders, as well as having come off far worse than her when it came to the sabre squid.

"Um, thanks," he said, taking it from her. "Is it a good idea to use all this up?"

"I carry two," she told him. "Besides, we don't know if the sand squid ichor is hazardous to us or not. We should really have done this earlier, but antiseptic should at least help a little if there's any open skin."

Nodding, Vinnie went back to his own bike and lounged in the saddle, dealing with his arms – not perfect, but adequate enough. The clothes he could do nothing about. At least they'd both been wearing helmets, he reflected as he checked his reflection of his wing mirror, otherwise he would have marred his face.

"I think we should find a place to rest for a while," said Carbine abruptly.

He forgot all about his reflection, an almost unheard of occurrence, and turned to her looking incredulous. "Um, I thought we had to warn the Freedom Fighters urgently – isn't that why we came the short way?"

"That's the trouble," she said, rubbing her forehead wearily. "There's no way of telling where they are until they actually get into Fossae. We can hang around the most obvious way, but if they or we are half a mile out, we miss them. We can't cut them off until they get into the town."

"Then shouldn't we wait in the town?"

"Where the Plutarkians are laying a trap? You don't think two Freedom Fighters – teenagers – arriving alone hours before they're supposed to would be suspicious? Anyway, we know Stoker will have made everyone stop for the night somewhere. They're not on the move. I've been trying to raise them on the bike radio again – nothing, and the helmets are out of range."

Vinnie shook his head adamantly. "We should go, in case something delays us later on."

"We're tired," Carbine countered sharply. "We've been driving all day, fought a sabre squid and Sand Raiders, haven't stopped to eat or drink. A little while isn't going to hurt us and it'll sharpen our senses. We just need to find a place out of sight."

"But Carbine…"

Carbine reached into the saddlebag again and pulled out another bag. Vinnie looked hopeful. "Is that – food?"

"Not much, but something." Carbine shrugged. "I'd thought if we were out at Red Rim Pass long enough, we'd get hungry. More a snack than anything else, but it's better than nothing."

"I can live with stopping a while," said Vinnie quickly, eyeing the food.

"First we find some shelter," replied Carbine. "I was checking the area on my bikes scanner – looks like there might be a cave in that rock formation over there, on the other side."

"I'll check it out," said Vinnie confidently, settling onto his bike.

"We'll_both_ check it out," replied Carbine firmly. "And don't give me any of that 'job for studly men' crap."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Vinnie with a wink. Carbine looked skyward in resignation, then gunned her engine and took off.

There was a cave, small but suitable. Both mice could stretch out in it and have a small fire going if they wanted to, not that there was anything to burn. Vinnie was surprised it wasn't being used by some animal and mentioned it to Carbine.

"Maybe it was," she said bitterly. "The Plutarkian invaders didn't just affect us. A lot of Martian wildlife is gonna suffer during the war, vegetation too. If we don't stop the Plutarkians soon, the whole of Mars will be reduced to a barren rock floating through space."

"We're not about to let that happen," replied Vinnie, settling into his trademark sprawl, flat on his back, hands tucked under his head. "The Freedom Fighters must be worrying the Plutarkians more than we thought if they're trying to get us all together for some kind of attack."

"Or maybe they're just trying to get rid of us because we're a nuisance," replied Carbine, rolling her shoulders to work the kinks out of her back, leaning against the wall of the cave with her legs outstretched.

"Then why not do it in Brimstone and where ever else there are Freedom Fighters?" Vinnie raised his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Why go to this much trouble if we're nothing more than a nuisance?"

Carbine frowned. "You might have a point there. It has to be another expense… maybe the fish are more worried than they seem."

"Means we're doing a good job," said Vinnie confidently. "You got that food?"

"Here." Carbine split the little she had in half and handed Vinnie his share. Vinnie rolled onto his stomach and began devouring it, while Carbine gave him a slightly incredulous stare. "You know, that can't be good for the digestion."

"Never hurt me yet," replied Vinnie indistinctly. "Y'realise we're only a few miles from Utopia? Where the camp my mom is? Maybe Stoker'll let us stop there; try to grab a few more Freedom Fighter wannabes."

"We're gonna need them, since it looks like we're not going to be finding the Council any time soon," said Carbine, a thoughtful frown on her face. "But – if the Plutarkians really have managed to get all the Freedom Fighters in one place, then there might just be a chance that they screwed up big time. If we can stop them – then we might be able to set up some kind of network after all. We'll all be face to face for the first time since the war began."

Vinnie glanced at her, surprised. "You're really thinking ahead here."

"Aren't you?"

"Nope." Vinnie looked back down at his food, deciding what to eat next. "Forward thinking ain't really my thing."

"I noticed," replied Carbine dryly, taking a bite of her own food, not really hungry but knowing she had to eat something. "So in case you're missing the big picture, I'll lay it out. We're the only thing between the Plutarkians and victory. If we don't get to the other Freedom Fighters in time – then the whole war might be lost."

"You think I don't know that?" he countered sharply. "I might not like thinking ahead too much, but sweetheart, I'm not dumb."

Carbine glanced up at him. "I never thought you were!"

"The point is, worrying about it too much isn't going to help," said Vinnie. "We do what we have to do – and we succeed or fail. I plan on success." He tipped her a wink. "With me, sweetheart?"

Carbine began to laugh. "Always!"

"Don't I _wish_," replied Vinnie with a grin of his own, before looking away and clearing his throat. "Guess I'm gonna grab some sleep – bike's gonna wake us up in a while. Wouldn't do to sleep in and miss the whole hero bit."

"Yeah," said Carbine unsurely, wondering exactly what he meant by that comment. Vinnie didn't – nah, couldn't be. He was just being his usual, flirtatious self.

Although he did sound pretty serious.

She lay down, ready to grab some sleep herself, glancing over at him. He was using his arms as a pillow, lying on his stomach, already three-quarters of the way to sleep. As she watched he succumbed to tiredness, breathing steadily, obviously asleep.

_He's the most irritating mouse I ever met,_ she thought to herself._Loud, vain, obnoxious… as soon as we do this mission, I can get back to normal._

_And I'm gonna stop staring at him now and get some sleep. Yeah._

She forced herself to roll onto her back, looking at the roof of the cave. To her irritation, she didn't feel like sleeping at all. She was too aware of how close she was to Vinnie, listening to his breathing and remembering the rescue from the Sand Raiders…

_I didn't even thank him for that._

_He's probably congratulated himself enough for it! Get a grip girl. This is Vinnie – admit you think he's cute and you'll never hear the end of it._

_But he IS cute…_

She gave in, rolled over and looked over at him. He was smiling at something in his sleep, looking surprisingly innocent. Damn. Why couldn't he be awake and doing something irritating? Or if he had to be asleep, couldn't he be snoring and drooling?

_He's so reckless and impulsive – the way he acts, any day could be his last…_

_And it couldn't be yours? This is war girl. In a few hours, you'll be up against the Plutarkians and who says you'll live through it? Maybe Vinnie has the right idea. The future's uncertain, but right here and now we're alive…_

_Damn._

Carbine got to her hands and knees, crawling over to Vinnie and shaking him awake.

"Wsssuh?" Vinnie opened his eyes and blinked sleepily. "We under attack?"

"No, I…" Carbine stopped, suddenly, ashamed of herself. What exactly had she planned on doing? And for what purpose? "It doesn't matter. Go back to sleep."

She went to make her way back to her own spot – but Vinnie caught her arm, fully awake now. "What is it?"

"I, um…" She glanced into his face and read the honest concern there._Great, I made him worried, nice going Carbine!_ "It's nothing. Really. Go back to sleep."

"Hey." He sat up, brushing her hair from her face. "I thought we were friends. What's the matter?"

"I just, um, I… oh hell." Carbine squeezed her eyes closed, the opened them again. Vinnie was still right in front of her, looking gravely concerned. Rather than speak any more and let her mouth spit out more mumbles, she leaned forward and kissed Vinnie full on the mouth, bumping her nose on his and blushing even harder.

Vinnie's widened his eyes, stunned. "Um… Carbine?"

"I'm sorry!" Carbine went to move away, cursing herself. Obviously, there was nothing there but friendship and she'd just made a fool of herself in the worst way possible.

"No, wait!" Vinnie gripped her upper arm as she tried to back off, holding her in place. "I, um… that is, I… um." Giving up, he leant toward her and kissed her, Carbine reciprocating, putting her hand on the back of his head. Vinnie deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.

When they broke the kiss, Carbine allowed herself a satisfied smile. "I think your reputation for a smooth talker just took a dive," she murmured.

"Hey, got you this close didn't it?" Vinnie caressed her cheek, grinning at her. "The reputation'll survive!"

And he leaned forward and kissed her again, letting her lean into him and wrapping his tail around her waist, not hurrying things. The morning could bring what it wanted. For the moment, they were satisfied with each other.


	7. Reunions

At the same time that Carbine and Vinnie were making their somewhat clumsy overtures toward each other, Throttle was creeping from the cave he shared with far too many people – there wasn't a huge amount of space to go around any more. As well as getting past his mother, he also had to worry about Chopper, Stanchion and three other adult mice. As silently as he could, he crept from his own bed and hearing no signs that anyone else was awake, dropped the note he had written earlier onto his pillow.

_I'm sorry mom, I know you're gonna be pissed – but I have to do this. I have to._

Silently he left the cave and headed to the spot where he kept his bike – only to find he hadn't been as sneaky as he thought he had.

"You were gonna leave without saying goodbye to me?"

"Jeez Chopper!" Throttle pitched his voice in a whisper. "Give me a heart attack why don't you?"

"You were just going to go?"

"Well…" Throttle looked guilty. "I'm just trying to avoid another scene. I have to go – I can't stand by anymore and watch the war from the sidelines. I feel useless stuck out here!"

"Oh." Chopper looked down at her feet. "I'll miss ya."

"Hey, you'll see me again real soon," replied Throttle, ruffling her hair – she hated that he knew, but this time she made no protest. "Beside, I need you to look after my mom. She's gonna hit the roof in the morning."

"I will," said Chopper solemnly. "Smoke some Plutarkians for me. And – be careful."

"Don't worry about me," said Throttle with the overconfidence of youth. "Once we throw those fish off Mars, I'll be coming back."

Throttle pushed his bike away from the cave rather than riding, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Chopper threw him a wave and watched until he was out of sight, before turning and sadly returning to the cave.

Altezza might be about to hit the roof, but she wasn't exactly happy about his leaving either.

&&&&&&&&

A bleeping at the door of the cave woke Carbine from her slumber – her bike, telling her it was time they got moving again. Blinking sleepily, she realised she was still curled up against Vinnie, who hadn't responded to the sound of the bike at all.

"Vinnie. Rise and shine."

No movement from the white mouse.

Realising he had his tail wrapped around her waist, she grabbed it and gave it a not-too-gentle tug. "Vinnie!"

"Yowch!" Vinnie sat up in a hurry. "Hey sweetheart, go easy on the merchandise!"

"You wouldn't wake up"

He tipped her a wink and a grin. "Think of Sleeping Beauty – a kiss'll do it every time."

"Oh great – the big bad Freedom Fighter thinks he's a princess," replied Carbine with a smirk.

"Ha ha ha," said Vinnie sarcastically. "Are we gonna go save the planet or what?"

"Let's go." Carbine crawled out of the cave, squinting against the sunrise and trying to sort out her mussed clothing. Vinnie followed, still yawning, and surprised Carbine by slinging an arm around her and kissing her cheek before heading over to his own bike.

"It's for luck," he told her, noting her slightly flustered expression.

Carbine tried to hide her embarrassed grin behind a stern look. "Shouldn't we be concentrating on the mission?"

"Yeah yeah. Ride to Fossae, warn the Freedom Fighters, stop the Plutarkians, save the planet – then do I get the girl?"

"That all depends if you impress me hotshot." Carbine gunned her engine and rode off, Vinnie close behind.

"Will it take us long to get there?" Vinnie asked Carbine through the radio in his helmet.

"Shouldn't do," she replied. "We made pretty good time – in fact, if nothing goes wrong, we should beat Stoker there."

"I hope we can grab something to eat while we're there," muttered Vinnie. "I'm starving."

Carbine shook her head. "We've no idea what we'll find in Fossae. If there's an ambush waiting or if they'll be laying low for a while – might be a while before we get anything. Tried getting through to Stoker yet?"

"I'm on it." Vinnie hit a few buttons on his radio, trying to get a vid-link to the other Freedom Fighters. "Nada. How the hell can all the communications be out? There were no problems before they left."

Carbine hit the brakes suddenly. "Stop. Listen."

Vinnie pulled up beside her, also listening intently. "Sounds like a bike engine coming this way – Freedom Fighters?"

"I only hear one."

"Definitely a Martian bike though." Vinnie glanced at her. "What do we do?"

"I say, we stop them and ask a couple of questions." Carbine smirked and began to go through her bikes saddlebags again. "A lone biker, all the way out here? Seems suspicious to me."

Vinnie nodded and his eyes widened as Carbine grabbed a whip from her bike. "Um, sweetheart, I'm flattered but is this really the time?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," snapped Carbine. "I can get whoever it is off their bike with this without hurting them. Much. Cover me."

The bike came into sight from around a boulder and Carbine flicked her wrist with an almost lazy gesture. The whip snapped out, wrapping around the bikers wrist and pulling him off-balance. The bike swerved for a few seconds before coming to a halt.

The biker wasted no time at all, grabbing the whip with his free hand and pulling it from Carbine's grip. In response, she ran at the biker, who jumped off his bike and prepared to defend himself.

Carbine aimed a low kick at his legs, sweeping them from under him and knocking him to the floor – but he grabbed her wrist on the way down, yanking her to the floor with him. For a moment, it looked as if the tussle would continue for some time…

"You gonna take your hands off the lady or am I gonna have to hurt you?"

The biker paused mid-struggle and stared up at Vinnie, who was aiming a gun squarely at his head. "No way – Vinnie?!"

"Throttle?"

"Yeah, it's me – um, babe, think you can get off me?"

Scowling beneath her helmet, Carbine got to her feet, allowing Throttle to sit up and remove his helmet, giving the two mice a confident grin.

""I don't believe it!" Vinnie offered his hand and yanked Throttle to his feet, giving a brief hug. "I thought you were in Utopia!"

"I was. Decided to head out and join the Freedom Fighters in Brimstone. Why let you have all the fun?"

"You're quite a way from the road to Brimstone," said Carbine sharply.

"Um, yeah… I was going the long way, just in case. I kinda – didn't tell my mom about it."

"Aaooww!" grinned Vinnie. "Altezza is gonna be mad as hell!"

"You're trying to avoid your mommy's search parties?" Carbine sighed. "Being a Freedom Fighter just gets better and better."

"This is Carbine," Vinnie said quickly, wrapping his tail around her waist in a proprietary manner, sending a clear message to the other mouse. "Carbine, this is Throttle – we hung out together in Brimstone."

"You've mentioned him," replied Carbine, managing a small smile and retrieving her whip. "You fought pretty well actually – maybe you could be a Freedom Fighter."

"We gotta catch up on old times!" announced Vinnie, forgetting their mission in his excitement at seeing his old friend again. "You and me and Modo all hanging out on our bikes – hey, where is the big lug anyway? I woulda thought he'd have come with you."

Throttle stared at Vinnie. "Stanchion didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Thing is – Modo isn't in Utopia. He never showed. Just his mom and sister and the kids. No one knows what happened to him."

Vinnie's shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground. "She never said – oh man…"

"Hey," said Throttle firmly. "All it means is that he didn't go to Utopia. There could be a hundred explanations. It doesn't mean he's… y'know."

"Guess not." Vinnie shrugged and sighed. "Big guy's a survivor. He wouldn't let some fish take him down."

Carbine put an arm around Vinnie's shoulders in a rare display of compassion. "Vinnie, I'm sorry about your friend. But we have to complete the mission, or else everything we fought for is finished."

"Right." Vinnie glanced up and managed a small grin. "Wanna come with, Throttle? Save the planet, be a hero? Pay sucks, but the fringe benefits are awesome!"

Throttle's eyes lit up. "Hell yes! It's why I left Utopia!"

"I guess the help wouldn't go amiss," said Carbine. "But don't get in the way – you're not experienced at this, like we are."

Throttle chuckled. "Well, this is my first mission."

Carbine turned her attention to Throttle. "The Freedom Fighters have gone to Fossae, thanks to some false information – they're gonna get ambushed once they get there. Not just those from Brimstone either. The only chance is if we make it there and warn them before the Plutarkians can do anything."

"And then we whip tail and save the day!" Vinnie put his helmet back on and closed the visor. "We're wasting time Carbine."

Carbine nodded. "Okay Freedom Fighters, let's rock –"

"And ride!" finished Vinnie, pulling a flashy wheelie and taking off in a cloud of sand.

Throttle shook his head as he gunned his own engine and followed. Running into Vinnie way out here was the last thing he had expected – but he had to admit, he was happy to see him. And not even a day away from Utopia and on his first mission already?

"Hey Vinnie," he shouted, catching up and opening his visor – there was no radio in his helmet. "Why didn't you and Carbine go to Fossae with the other Freedom Fighters?"

"You know how this is your first mission?" Vinnie shouted back, laughing. "It's ours too!"

Throttle sighed. "Mom was right. I really _am_ gonna die!"

&&&&

Some time later, Carbine motioned for the other two to stop. Obediently, they pulled their bikes up behind her as she took off her helmet and pointed ahead of her.

"The city there is Fossae. We're here."

"Seems quiet enough," commented Throttle. "I don't see any warships or anything."

"That'd be kind of a giveaway," said Vinnie.

"They'll be hiding out somewhere," said Carbine grimly. "Probably came in on foot, waiting for the Freedom Fighters. Vinnie, can you raise Stoker on the radio? Maybe since we're closer to him now, we can finally get through."

Vinnie tried the radio again, brow furrowed in frustration. "Nothing! Damn, I don't get how the radios can all just die like this – we should be able to get something, even just audio."

"I've tried Harley and Denel and I can't get to either of them." Carbine sighed. "Looks like we're going to be going right into Fossae and looking for them."

"Um, how are we going to know where to find them?" asked Throttle.

"The route I gave Stoker, he should be coming into town about three kilometres away," said Carbine thoughtfully. "We can head there and wait… we should be able to contact them over our helmets when they get in range."

"Got it." Vinnie closed his visor and spoke through the radio in his helmet. "I guess one of us is gonna have to keep trying to raise them through this thing."

"Vinnie?"

Vinnie blinked as Stoker's voice came loud and clear through the helmet radio. "Or not. Hey Stokes!"

"What the hell are you kids doing here? We left you in Brimstone!"

"Um… surprise!"

"Vinnie." Carbine shot him a look and spoke through her own helmet. "Stoker, we found out that the Plutarkians laid a trap in Fossae – it's a set up. Watch your tail!"

"A set-up?" Stoker's voice sharpened. "But we're already_ in_ Fossae! And so are half the Freedom Fighters on Mars!"

"You're there _already_?" Carbine widened her eyes and glanced over at Vinnie. "But you shouldn't have arrived for a while yet!"

"We made good time – what kind of trap?"

"We didn't find out, only that the Plutarkians are trying to get all the Freedom Fighters together to wipe them out at once. Stoker, you've got to warn everyone and get them out of there!"

"On it." Stoker's voice was firm. "Thanks for the warning kid. _Don't_ come into Foss…"

The sound of an explosion came simultaneously from their helmet radios and from within the limits of Fossae. All three mice looked up to see a plume of smoke rising from within the city – then the sound of more fighting.

"We didn't make it in time!" shouted Throttle.

"We're not too late yet," replied Vinnie, gunning his engine. "Let's go."

"But Stoker said…" began Carbine.

Too late. Vinnie took off toward Fossae. "AAAOOOOWWW!!"

Carbine glanced over and gave Throttle a one-shouldered shrug. "Well – I suppose disobeying direct orders is the sign of a good Freedom Fighter. Let's ride."

The two mice took off after Vinnie, Carbine pulling out her gun as she did so. Throttle looked at it and realised something. "Hey Carbine – I'm not armed!"

"Here." Carbine took a second gun from her jacket and passed it to him one-handed, not slowing her bike.

Throttle grinned, twirling the gun around his finger. "I _love _being a Freedom Fighter."

They rode into Fossae and toward the area the explosions had been sighted, managing to catch up to Vinnie who was zooming as fast as he could toward the excitement.

The first sign they had of the Freedom Fighters were the sounds of motorbike engines in the distance. A lot of engines. To Throttle, it sounded like the day everyone had fled Brimstone and some of his excitement at being in the midst of the action dimmed. No matter how much he had wanted to be in on the action, this was still war – and there were still civilians in Fossae. If the Plutarkians had chosen it as an ambush site, it was no doubt also the next place on the list to be mined for the greater glory of Plutark and the mice remaining there would be chased out or captured or killed.

_Not a chance. Not this time._

The three rounded a corner, past a large rock formation – and straight into the heart of the battle.

Row after row of Plutarkians were advancing, all of them armed with laser guns, all of them firing at any mice which happened to be nearby. Behind the foot soldiers were teams in all-terrain vehicles and tanks. Nothing from the sky – yet- but Throttle suspected it was only a matter of time now the ambush had been launched.

Aiming his gun, he began taking pot-shots at the Plutarkians, taking out several, keeping his bike at full speed to avoid being hit. All the time he had spent in Utopia riding with nothing else to do paid off; swerving and dodging, he managed to avoid return fire.

Carbine chose a tactical route, managing to get within shooting range of the fish but remaining more or less hidden, weaving around the rock formations that were scattered throughout the area. Her shots were precise, not a single one wasted, all hitting their mark. Throttle was impressed.

Vinnie, he noticed, was far less cautious, whooping happily as he rode directly into the midst of a group of Plutarkian soldiers, pulling the pin on a grenade with his teeth and tossing it idly behind him, making good his escape before the grenade exploded, taking the whole group out.

"_Aaaooowww!"_

Throttle frowned. That hadn't sounded much like Vinnie…

And then a motorcycle leapt over one of the rock formations, landing directly on a Plutarkian that none of them had noticed, lying in wait for Vinnie hidden behind a rock, directly in his path.

The mouse cut in front of Vinnie and forced him to a stop, Carbine and Throttle joining them a moment later.

Stoker glared at them through his visor, taking a grenade from his jacket. "I thought I told you kids to stay out of here?" he said, throwing the grenade at a group of Plutarkians to his left.

"Aw, come on Stoker," said Vinnie, turning his gun toward a stray soldier and firing. "You can use our help!"

"I could do without babysitting you," growled Stoker.

Carbine scowled. "We can _fight_ Stoker; we're not kids anymore, so stop nagging at us and let us get on with it!" With that she revved her engine and headed straight back into the fighting.

Throttle raised his eyebrows. "Your girl sure has a temper."

"Oh trust me," said Vinnie with a grin as they both spun their bikes and headed off after Carbine, trying not to worry about what Stoker would have to say to them later on. "That was _restrained_ Carbine. Watch out if she ever _really_ loses her temper!"

The pair started to laugh – and were cut off as a sudden powerful blast blew one of the larger rock formations into a million pieces. Stone showered around them and up ahead, Carbine skidded to a halt to avoid getting stunned by the larger chunks.

Avoiding as many of the pieces as possible, Vinnie pulled to a halt beside Carbine. "What the hell was _that_?"

"_That _was_ him_," said Stoker stopping behind them and pointing to a nearby mesa, in view only due to the now-absent rock. Atop it stood a humanoid man, with green skin and red hair, smirking. In his hands was a guitar.

Vinnie snorted. "One guy? What's he gonna do, play country and western at us until we surrender?"

As if hearing him, the guy hit the strings of his guitar, sending a blast of energy toward them. The four mice scrambled out of the way in a hurry, a smoking crater left where they had been moments before.

"That's Hard Rock," Stoker told them over the helmets, riding back into the melee. "Former musician, now a mercenary for hire. Just – be careful!"

"Normally I like hard rock," said Vinnie.

"Get over it," replied Carbine grimly. "Because I get the feeling this guy _isn't_ playing our song."


	8. To Battle

**Author Note: **This is the final chapter of this little story - thank you to everyone who read! I hope you'll enjoy the next tale as much, which should be posted right here in the New Year (early in the New Year!). Hve a good time and a Happy New Year to all!

_&&&&&&&& _

A blast of energy emitted from Hard Rock's guitar, blowing another crater in the ground. The humanoid grinned widely and span around, blasting again, creating more destruction.

"We leave this guy to it, there won't be anything left of Fossae to defend!" shouted Throttle as the three teenage mice took temporary shelter behind a rock.

"Probably the idea," Carbine replied. "Get the Freedom Fighters here, call out the big guns and do two jobs at once. Take down Fossae and wipe us out too."

"I got news for you," said Vinnie as another explosion occurred. "It wasn't a bad plan!"

Out in the open, Stoker spun around, heading for Hard Rock, grenade in hand, avoiding the blasts from the guitar and the rubble falling around him. Hard Rock was distracted by him, snarling, aiming his guitar and missing with every blast, although he was managing to tear up a lot of the surroundings.

Throttle glanced over at the older mouse. "Uh… is he insane?"

"Technically, yes," replied Carbine. "But this is something else. A little something we like to call a distraction."

At that moment, gangs of Freedom Fighters approached from all directions. Some leapt the rock formations, others skidded out of hiding within caves, still more flew over the terrain at top speed. One thing was obvious, there were more of them than had ever been at Brimstone. There had to be several different factions of the Freedom Fighters gathered at Fossae.

"Oh wow," said Vinnie, a grin breaking out across his face.

Carbine shot him an amused look. "Are you gonna stand there all day, or are we gonna make like Freedom Fighters and whip tail?"

"_AAOOWW!"_ Vinnie pulled a wheelie and headed into the melee, Carbine and Throttle hot on his tail.

"Don't forget about the Plutarkians!" Carbine instructed, opening her visor to shout the instructions to Throttle, who was without a helmet radio. Throttle sent her back an 'okay' signal and Vinnie gave a thumbs-up sign as they headed at Hard Rock alongside the other Freedom Fighters.

Hard Rock turned in a full circle, sending out intermittent blasts from his guitar. But the Freedom Fighters were able to weave and jump the explosions, staying for the most part out of the way. Several did fall, mostly unable to avoid the craters Hard Rock blasted in front of them or being forced to bail in order to avoid being fried.

At this point, Hard Rock apparently decided a retreat was in order – but there was nowhere for him to go. The Freedom Fighters had him surrounded.

And then another wave of Plutarkians arrived, blasting at the mice.

"We need to split up," growled Stoker through their radios. "Shrapnel, Denel, Jumo, you're with me – we're going after Hard Rock. Everyone else – whip stink fish tails!"

There was a scream of engines as scores of Freedom Fighters simultaneously did 180 degree turns and roared off after the Plutarkians, leaving just four to go after Hard Rock.

"Damn," growled Carbine as she glanced around. "All these Freedom Fighters and we're still outnumbered."

"But not outclassed," responded Vinnie, heading his bike straight for a partially destroyed rock formation, using it as a ramp and taking off in the air. He leapt over a group of Plutarkian all-terrain vehicles and grabbed out two grenades, pulling the pins and dropping them. The Plutarkians fled for cover as the grenades exploded, showering hot metal across the area and doing plenty of damage.

Landing rather too heavily, Vinnie wobbled slightly on his bike before managing to right himself and hoping that no one had noticed, zooming over beside Throttle, who was firing his lone gun on the invaders with a shot that Vinnie noticed was surprisingly accurate.

Carbine meanwhile had ridden her bike beside a Plutarkian digging machine that had been brought into the fray, carrying two Plutarkians. Jumping from her bike, she grabbed for the doorframe of the digging machine and swung her feet inside, knocking one Plutarkian into the other and sending them both falling from the vehicle. Letting her momentum carry her inside the cab, she adjusted the controls, aiming the machine at the Plutarkian army and jamming a grenade under the accelerator before jumping back out of the machine and onto her bike, which had remained riding alongside her. She sped away from the machine as it advanced, driverless, on a group of unsuspecting invaders, exploding mere seconds before it would have run them over and taking a group of them down and out.

Watching the action, Vinnie grinned goofily. "Whoa, danger – falling mouse!"

"Are you gonna join in on the action hotshot, or just watching me have all the fun?" Carbine's voice over the radio sounded amused.

"This girl's talking my language!" Vinnie grinned over at Throttle, not remembering that he couldn't hear the conversation.

"Hey Vinnie!" yelled Throttle, taking out a nearby Plutarkian with a single shot. "Spare some of those grenades?"

"Oh man!" Vinnie rolled his eyes, but fished two from his jacket. "I'm running low, I can only spare these."

"Appreciate it." Throttle roared off in the direction of the foot soldiers, both grenades in one hand and debating if he should tuck the gun into his waistband since he didn't have a holster – then again, he didn't want to inadvertently scorch anything vital. Instead, he kept it in his left hand and hoped for the best as he headed toward those soldiers without vehicles.

Several other Freedom Fighters had the same idea, scores of them heading toward the invaders at high speed. The Plutarkians continued to fire, but their numbers were thinning and the mice continued to rain fire down on them.

Throttle pulled ahead of the other fighters, advancing at top speed, taking on the invaders head-on as if playing a game of chicken. At the last moment, he used his teeth to pull the pins on both grenades, just as he had seen the other mice do, and hurled them into the centre of the group, skidding 180 degrees and knocking the Plutarkians he had got too close to flying. A laser shot hit the ground to the side of him and he overcompensated, leaning too hard to the left and almost wiping out. His concentration centred on righting his bike, he didn't notice the lone Plutarkian advancing on him until another shot took out the would-be attacker. Glancing up, he noticed Carbine riding away, mimicking blowing smoke from the barrel of her gun.

The explosives Throttle threw exploded, sending the Plutarkians scattering like bowling pins. As the dust cleared, Vinnie leapt over their heads, landing almost directly where the bombs had been when they exploded, a gun in either hand and holding onto the bike with only his legs, arms at a 90 degree angle to his body, firing at the few Plutarkians who had kept their feet or managed to get back up quickly.

Looking around, Carbine noted that the other Freedom Fighters were experiencing similar success and she grinned widely. In spite of everything, it looked like they might actually achieve something…

And then an energy blast ripped a long furrow from the ground, forcing a number of Freedom Fighters to ride for cover. Hard Rock again.

The alien was smirking as he aimed his guitar at a cluster of Freedom Fighters, blasting at them. On the ground nearby were the mice who had gone to stop him. Stoker, laying beside his bike, stirred slightly, apparently merely dazed. Shrapnel was getting to his knees, going back for his bike. Denel and Jumo didn't move, apparently unconscious.

"Vinnie!" she shouted into her radio. "Hard Rock got the drop on Stoker!"

"One distraction coming up!" Vinnie hit the accelerator, going even faster than he had been before, tucking his guns away and deploying the weapons on his bike instead. A cannon rose out of the front and he managed to gain Hard Rock's attention by blasting at the mesa he stood on, forcing the humanoid to leap back or lose a toe.

Hard Rock blasted at Vinnie, missing again and again as the white mouse weaved and dodged, going at full speed in a dizzying circle around the mesa. Vinnie laughed, happy to finally be showing off his skills where they could be appreciated. "No way creep – can't hit me! I'm the baddest motorcycle mammajammer on Mars and don't forget it!"

Seeing that the other Freedom Fighters were occupied with the remaining Plutarkians, Carbine indicated to Throttle to follow her and dismounted her bike, keeping low to avoid laser fire. Stoker was right ahead of her and she crawled over, shaking his arm to see if he was conscious.

Throttle made his way to Shrapnel, who was having some difficulty. "You okay?"

Shrapnel gave the younger a mouse a dirty look. "Leg's busted and my bike took a hit. Get outta here kid, before you get hurt."

Glancing up, Throttle saw Vinnie drawing fire away from where they were, giving them an escape route – a narrow escape route. He whistled for his bike, which sped toward them and he wasted no time in helping Shrapnel onto the pillion, leaping on and getting away from the mesa just as Vinnie came past, Hard Rock's blasts still chasing him.

Shrapnel glanced over to the mesa. "Stoker and Denel and Jumo…"

"Carbine's gone after Stoker," replied Throttle, remembering that 'Stoker' was the older mouse who had spoken to them previously. "But the other two are down. Stay behind this rock – you should be safe there for now."

"And what exactly are you planning to do kid?" asked Shrapnel as Throttle helped him off the bike and into a sitting position out of sight of the fighting.

Throttle got back on his bike and revved his engine. "I'm going back in there. My friends need me." And with that, he rode back toward the fighting.

Stoker opened his eyes blearily and shook his head to clear his thoughts as Carbine shook him. "Kid, what the hell are you doing here? You could be killed!"

"I will be unless you know a way to get Hard Rock outta here! Do you know anything about him – his weaknesses, anything?"

"The guitar," Stoker told her, getting to his knees and heading over to his bike. "Without it, he's pretty much powerless."

"Great." Carbine rolled her eyes. "How are we supposed to trash it?"

"Easy," growled Stoker. "We trash _him_ too."

"Let's go." Carbine waited a moment for Vinnie to draw fire away from them again, then whistled her bike and leapt on board, Stoker righting his own machine and riding off with her, taking stock of the situation. Most of the Freedom Fighters were occupied with the Plutarkians – if they were to stop Hard Rock, the four of them were on their own.

Hard Rock chose that moment to pause his agitated shooting at Vinnie, think for a moment, then anticipate his next move. By shooting where Vinnie was going to be, rather than where he actually was, he managed a lucky shot, hitting Vinnie's back tyre a glancing blow and shredding it. The bike plunged out of control, going far too fast for an emergency stop. Vinnie was sent hurtling over the handlebars as the bike spun and toppled to the ground, the tyre still smoking.

"Oooh…" Vinnie shook his head to get his bearings back. "Not one for the highlight reel."

And then he realised Hard Rock was smirking at him, aiming the machine head of the guitar in his direction, about to fire.

Carbine zoomed past him, jumping her bike over his and using the cannons on the front of her own bike, attempting to go for Hard Rock's guitar but missing, scorching his jacket but doing no real damage. Hard Rock's attention was removed from Vinnie momentarily, blasting at Carbine.

Throttle rode up on his own bike, past Vinnie. Vinnie reached into his jacket and pulled out a grenade – his last, he realised.

"Hey Throttle! Catch!"

Vinnie threw the grenade in the air and Throttle jumped his bike, grabbing the grenade in mid air. Before the bike could land, he let go of the handlebars, pulled the pin of the grenade and hurled it at Hard Rock.

Grabbing the handlebars again, he turned the bike around as it descended, racing away from Hard Rock as soon as he landed. Opening his visor, he sent out a warning to those nearby.

"_Fire in the hole!"_

Vinnie grabbed his bike and peeled off as best he could on one flat and ruined tyre, Carbine joining the pair as they raced away. Hard Rock didn't fire after them, widening his eyes as he tried to escape the bomb on foot…

Too late. The grenade exploded in a flash of flame and Hard Rock was flung from the mesa, tumbling to the ground and lying stunned.

"Al-_right_!"

"Yes!"

"_Aaoooooooowwww!"_

The three young mice celebrated loudly, exchanging high-fives and congratulations, doubling back toward the mesa to join in with the fighting.

But the Plutarkians were in full retreat, four spaceships having turned up to take from the area, the injured being left behind or forced to make their own way to escape. Hard Rock got to his knees and half-crawled away, getting lost in the mass of fleeing fish.

As the Plutarkian ships flew away, a cheer went up from the mass of Freedom Fighters. They might have had a hard battle – but they were victorious. The war was a long way from over, but the triumph in Fossae had restored morale and boosted everyone's confidence. And if they were lucky, that was just the start.

The trio pulled up beside Stoker, who was aiding Denel and Jumo regain consciousness. Vinnie shot him a sarcastic glance as they got off their bikes. "Jeez Stoke, thanks for the assiss."

"You seemed to be doing pretty well without me, punk." Stoker glanced up at Throttle. "Who's the new guy?"

Throttle removed his helmet, not entirely sure how to address the older mouse. "Name's Throttle. Headed out here to join the Freedom Fighters."

"Did a pretty good job too," replied Stoker, extending a hand. Throttle shook it solemnly. "Welcome aboard."

"Nice one bro," said Vinnie, nudged him in the ribs. Throttle grinned back and they exchanged high-fives.

Carbine, standing beside Vinnie, surprised the white mouse by reaching up and kissing his cheek. "Not bad hotshot. We'll have to do it again sometime."

Vinnie smiled, blushing furiously. "Yeah, um… definitely sweetheart… uh…"

Throttle nudged him. "Smooth talking, Vin-man."

"Hey, the lady knows true Martian studliness when she sees it," replied Vinnie, regaining his composure a little and putting an arm around Carbine's shoulders.

"Well, I've got news for you_ Vin-man_," said Stoker, keeping his smile but allowing low tones of menace to enter his voice. "You mistreat my niece in any way and I'll pull off your ears and pin them to your tail. Capisce?"

"Aw man, now I can see where she gets that mean streak from," whined Vinnie, covering his ears while Throttle and Carbine laughed at him.

"Hello?" said a voice from their feet. "I feel like I've just been hit by a ten ton truck and you're all laughing it up? Damn, my life sucks."

"Sorry Denel," muttered Stoker quickly, bending down to help her to her feet.

Jumo was sitting some distance away, rubbing his head wearily. "Tell you something bros, I'm getting too old for all this stuff."

"That's okay Jumo," replied Stoker. "You missed the kids in action – looks like the future of the Freedom Fighters is in good hands anyway."

"We're not kids Stoker," said Carbine, folding her arms defiantly.

"Whatever you say," said Stoker, ruffling her hair and earning himself a not-too-serious frown. "Come on. Now we've run the Plutarkians out of Fossae, for the moment at least, we better talk to the other Freedom Fighters, see if we can't organise some way for the factions to communicate. And Harley should be around somewhere – told her to get outta here when the fighting started. She listens," he added pointedly. "She should be able to fix any damage to the bikes, but Throttle, getting weapons on yours will have to wait until we get back to Brimstone."

Throttle's grin threatened to crack his face. "Weapons?"

"Welcome to the Freedom Fighters," said Stoker with a wink.

Much later, the groups of Freedom fighters had worked out how to communicate between each other, arranging radio transmission frequencies that the Plutarkians shouldn't be able to intercept, codes, other ways of exchanging vital information with each other and potentially with the camps that had been set up for displaced Martians. The three teenagers weren't listening. Vinnie had spent some time helping Harley and three other mechanics from other factions of the rebellion mend various motorcycles damaged during the fight, but after a while Harley insisted he go take a rest. He didn't object too much. His own bike was repaired, the tyre replaced and as good as new.

He sat on a rock away from the Freedom Fighters, only the occasional burst of their raucious laughter intruding. Carbine sat next to him, and some time earlier he had slipped an arm around her. There had been no objections or threats on her part. Throttle also sat with them, resting his chin on his hand.

"It was good to finally be able to show Stoker we're good enough to be Freedom Fighters," said Carbine lazily, using Vinnie's arm as a makeshift cushion.

"Just a tiny step away from total extinction – it was a _blast_!" Vinnie laughed, trying not to dislodge Carbine.

"We made a pretty good team," said Throttle casually. He had no idea if Vinnie and Carbine worked together all the time or not – maybe he had just got in their way.

"Yeah, we did." Vinnie looked over to the group of mice sitting some distance from them. "Future of the Freedom Fighters, that's us."

"Whatever the future brings," added Carbine sombrely.

"That one's simple," said Throttle. "The future's gonna have the liberation of Mars…"

"And the three of us, front and centre to whip tail!" finished Vinnie.

Cheering, the three of them exchanged high-fives, certain that the end of the war was just around the corner now they were able to fight in it.


End file.
